


That Kind of Lonely

by enigmaticblue



Series: Rebuilding from the Ashes [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-18
Packaged: 2018-02-21 15:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2473577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all deal with the fallout in their own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clint Barton

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [That Kind of Lonely: Fanmix](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/79280) by enigmaticblue. 
  * Inspired by [That Kind of Lonely: Artwork MASTERPOST (Marvel-bang 2014)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2474729) by [Digitalwave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Digitalwave/pseuds/Digitalwave). 



> Written for the 2014 marvel_bang, and the trope_bingo prompt “road trip”. Title from the Patty Griffin song of the same name.

 

_“Every strand has come unwound, every heart is all worn down, everyone in this room wanted to be somewhere else. So tonight I found a key, and drive a way a little early, is the last time I wanna be that kind of lonely…” ~Patty Griffin, “That Kind of Lonely”_

 

**Clint Barton**

 

Clint is in the Ukraine after taking out a really bad guy who’s trafficking in drugs and humans, along with fixing a couple of elections, waiting for a pickup that never comes, when he figures out something has gone sideways.

 

Granted, Clint doesn’t typically have an exit strategy, because it draws more attention than slipping out of the country ghost-like. The mission had been a big deal, though, and Blake had promised a ride.

 

Waiting at the pickup point, Clint remembers why he normally doesn’t _have_ an exit strategy, because if you’re dependent on someone else, you get fucked.

 

Clint really should have remembered that when Blake had said SHIELD would pick him up. Now, if _Coulson_ had made the promise, that would have been different, but Coulson is dead. And Clint’s going to be dead pretty damn soon if he can’t find a way out of the Ukraine.

 

The problem is that Melnik’s men are everywhere, and it apparently isn’t just Melnik who had been running things. His daughter is just as involved, and she wants Clint’s head on a platter.

 

And her men are _everywhere_ —at the pickup site, at the safe houses, at the airport, at the border crossings. By the time he tries to get across the border into Poland, and has to dodge more of Melnik’s men, Clint figures that SHIELD has a mole. He calls Natasha and gets no answer. He calls Sitwell, and nothing. He calls _fucking tech support_ , and nothing.

 

At that point, Clint’s holed up in a flophouse in Lviv, and he can’t put his head out of the door for fear of being killed.

 

Clint has _never_ failed at getting out of a country before, and the only person he can think of to call to get him out is Tony Stark.

 

It pisses him off that he can’t get himself out of this mess, and it pisses him off that he has to call Tony, but Clint figures that saving his own skin is more important than his pride.

 

Unlike everybody else, Tony picks up, and he immediately says, “What can I do for you, Katniss?”

 

“I need a ride,” Clint admits. “I’m kind of stuck in the Ukraine.”

 

“Where?” Tony asks.

 

Clint hesitates, and says, “Lviv.”

 

“Can you make it to the airport, or do I need to come to you and kick some ass?”

 

Clint laughs, relief filling him. “Ass kicking wouldn’t be turned down. I can’t seem to stick my head out without someone trying to shoot me.”

 

“Hang on just a minute,” Tony says. “Seriously, I will get you out of there, just hang tight.”

 

There’s a long pause, and Clint waits, feeling a little better.

 

“Okay, so, serious question here, but do you need the Hulk?” Tony asks.

 

“Is that an option?”

 

“Well, Bruce is here with me, so yes,” Tony replies. “I mean, I can be there faster in the suit, and we’ll have to send the jet anyway, but it’s up to you.”

 

“Do you know how badly I want to say yes right now?” Clint asks. “Also, what the fuck is going on with SHIELD? I can’t get anyone on the phone.”

 

Tony’s hesitation is audible. “Yeah. There’s a lot, actually. Short story—Hydra basically infiltrated SHIELD decades ago, everything is completely fucked, helicarriers crashed, Hydra had us on a hit list, SHIELD is no more, and you can blame Rogers and Romanoff.”

 

Clint blinks. “Are you fucking with me?”

 

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Tony replies. “Not about this. Granted, I think there were probably extenuating circumstances, but they haven’t called me, so that’s what I’ve got.”

 

“Shit,” Clint says.

 

“You’re telling me,” Tony replies. “I helped build those fucking death machines, and they were going to kill me _and_ Bruce.”

 

Clint’s not sure, but he actually thinks Tony might be more irritated about them trying to kill Bruce, and he says as much.

 

“Well, sure, people want to kill _me_ all the time,” Tony protests. “This is _Bruce_!”

 

Clint grins. “Well, I don’t think I need the Hulk, but I’d be happy to see both of you again, so however you want to deal with it.”

 

Tony hums under his breath. “Okay, give us about 16 hours. I can pack up one of the suits on the plane, and I’ll come to you once the jet lands.”

 

“I thought you blew up all your suits,” Clint replies.

 

“I did,” Tony replies. “Operation Clean Slate, and then I started building another suit. Come on, Barton. Get with the program. I _am_ Iron Man.”

 

Clint can do nothing other than agree. “That you are. Thanks for the assist, Stark.”

 

Tony snorts. “Don’t mention it. I’ve been stuck here twiddling my thumbs while everybody else blows shit up, or talks to the Senate, or what the fuck ever. It’s nice to have something to do.”

 

Clint hears muffled words on the other end, and Tony says, “Yes, besides doing science with my best bro, _yes already_.”

 

He grins broadly. “See you soon, Iron Man.”

 

“You know it,” Tony says. “Try not to get killed before I get there.”

 

Clint naps intermittently and eats the last power bar that he’d stashed. He’d like to go out and grab a pastry, or dinner at one of the cafés around town. Clint’s been in Lviv before, and he knows where to find good food, but that’s out of the question right now.

 

At least he can drink water from the tap, and he’d given the proprietor enough money to keep him off Clint’s doorstep for another day or two, and so all he has to do is wait for Stark to show up.

 

Which he does, in the Iron Man suit, with plenty of fanfare.

 

Clint watches from the window, open mouthed, until he hears a quiet knock on the door, so quiet that he might have missed it if he weren’t on high alert. Clint pulls out his sidearm and cautiously opens the door—there’s no peephole—and sees Bruce standing there, looking apologetic.

 

“Sorry,” Bruce says immediately. “Tony thought it made more sense for him to create a distraction out front while we went out the back.”

 

Clint grins. “Tony is a genius.”

 

“He likes to think so,” Bruce says with a wry grin. “Can I help you carry anything?”

 

All Clint has is his pack and his bow, and he insists on carrying both while Bruce leads him down a set of back stairs that Clint hadn’t known about.

 

Granted, he hadn’t been looking for them, but he still has to ask, “How did you know about the exit?”

 

“Experience and a lot of money,” Bruce replies. “At least, it was a lot of money for the locals. Pretty sure it was pocket change for Tony.”

 

There’s a nondescript sedan parked a block away, and Bruce slides behind the wheel while Clint stows his gear. “Okay, so, seriously, how the fuck were you guys able to do this?”

 

Bruce snorts. “Come on, Barton, think about who you’re talking to. Do you think I had a passport for all those years I was on the run?”

 

Clint hadn’t really thought about it at all, actually. He’s had less contact with Bruce than he had with Tony even, and Bruce has always struck him as the absent-minded professor type. Even after New York, after seeing the Hulk, and knowing what lived under Bruce’s skin, Clint hadn’t considered that there might be more to him than genius professor by day, enormous green rage monster by anger.

 

“Impressive,” is all he says, because he really should have known better than to underestimate someone like Bruce Banner.

 

Bruce laughs, like he knows what’s going through Clint’s head. “That’s kind of the point, you know? It’s better when people underestimate me.”

 

“So you can sneak into Lviv and rescue a SHIELD operative?” Clint asks.

 

Bruce grins. “So I can rescue an Avenger without going green. It’s probably better for everybody this way. Duck down. It’ll be easier if no one sees you.”

 

Clint spends an uncomfortable hour on the floor while Bruce navigates Lviv’s traffic with an equanimity he envies. “Tony said something about a jet.”

 

“It’s at the airport,” Bruce replies. “Assuming we get there in one piece—” and the car swerves sharply as though to underscore his point—“we should be good.”

 

“Neither of you had to come,” Clint points out, because he’s still not sure what this turn of events means, and he wishes Coulson or Fury could explain it to him.

 

Bruce sighs. “Tony wasn’t exaggerating earlier. It might actually be worse.”

 

Clint feels a chill. “Define ‘worse.’”

 

“Word is, Fury’s dead,” Bruce explains. “And so far, everybody believes it.”

 

“You don’t,” Clint says.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “Tony says that he won’t believe Fury’s dead until he sees the corpse for himself, and not even then until he salts and burns the ashes. Personally, I think he’s been watching too much _Supernatural_ , but he has a point.”

 

Clint snorts. “Tony doesn’t watch _Supernatural_.”

 

“You would be surprised at what goes on in the Tower at 2 am when Pepper isn’t around, and we’re too tired to see straight,” Bruce replies with a straight face. “We might watch TV.”

 

Coulson had liked _Super Nanny_ , Clint remembers, and he prefers _Dog Cops_ , so it’s not like he can throw stones. “So, you’re saying that it looks like Director Fury’s dead, but Tony doesn’t believe it.”

 

“Personally, I’m not sure I believe it either,” Bruce admits. “Tony has a point about Fury’s—imperviousness.”

 

“I would have said pure cussedness,” Clint says from the floor.

 

A smile tilts Bruce’s lips. “Yeah, that too.” He goes quiet for a moment. “Okay, we’re here. I’m going to pull up as close to the jet as I can. I can’t see any goons around, but head right to the plane. I’ll grab your things.”

 

Clint can’t believe he’s entrusting his go-bag and bow to anyone, but he trusts Bruce. Hell, at this point, he’s not sure who he can trust if he can’t trust the Avengers.

 

Fury had trusted them; he’d been the one to bring Tony and Bruce in from the beginning, and had stood by that decision in the face of the naysayers. Clint figures he can’t do much worse than to trust Fury’s judgment now, even if it’s posthumously. Maybe.

 

Bruce pulls up with the passenger side facing Tony’s private jet, and Clint bails and is up the stairs and inside in a matter of seconds, Bruce following a little more slowly with Clint’s gear.

 

“You want something to drink?” Bruce asks. “Or to eat? I think we might have some supplies somewhere.”

 

“Both, if you’ve got it,” Clint agrees, and relaxes minutely.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Bruce has a plate full of sandwiches and a couple of bottles of water in front of Clint, and they’re both eating. Tony shows up a few minutes later, apparently having already stowed the suit, and says, “Leave one for me, huh? It’s wheels up in ten.”

 

They leave Tony two sandwiches, and Tony pours out three drinks without asking, sitting down next to Bruce with a sigh. “To successful rescue attempts,” he says, holding up a glass. “And friends who are still alive and in one piece.”

 

Clint smiles and clinks his glass with Tony’s and Bruce’s in turn. “I’ll drink to that.”

 

~~~~~

 

It takes Clint about three days to catch up on sleep and food, which he does in the very comfortable confines of the Tower. He agrees with Tony that it’s probably for the best. He catches part of Natasha’s testimony at the Senate hearing on YouTube, but since she hasn’t tried to call him, Clint knows better than to try and find her.

 

Natasha is like a cat that way—if you want to get close, she’ll disappear. Act indifferent, and she might deign to show some affection.

 

“So, here’s the thing,” Tony says when Clint wanders out on the fourth morning to find Bruce making waffles. “We’ve been going through some files that Rogers and Romanoff put out on the web.”

 

Clint flinches. “Something about me?”

 

“Sort of,” Tony says. “But only in the sense that Coulson seemed to be a little upset when Loki fucked with your head, and so we thought you might want to know he’s alive.”

 

Clint feels as though he’s been gut punched. “What?”

 

“We have evidence that Phil Coulson is alive,” Tony replies.

 

“What kind of evidence?” Clint demands.

 

Bruce clears his throat. “Video and audio, with a time stamp that hasn’t been faked. We checked.”

 

“If Fury’s dead—”

 

“We don’t know that,” Tony says abruptly. “In fact, as I’m sure Bruce has already told you, I’m pretty sure Fury’s still alive.”

 

“Something about salting and burning,” Clint says, unable to remember the exact words, given how exhausted he’d been when Bruce had picked him up.

 

“You say that like it’s ridiculous,” Tony accuses. “But would you think any differently?”

 

Clint shrugs. “Okay, maybe not. But Coulson?”

 

“No idea where he is,” Tony says quickly. “I can give you the names of his team members, and I can tell you where he’d been prior to the exposure of Hydra. Everything else that Coulson has been doing has been kept so far below the radar, even I couldn’t find much.”

 

Clint feels a little hurt that Coulson hadn’t tried to contact him. He’s used to Natasha disappearing, and it’s not too surprising given what happened, but he would have thought that Coulson would at least try to make contact.

 

“What am I supposed to do now?” Clint asks, mostly rhetorically.

 

“What do you want to do?” Tony asks.

 

Clint blinks. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, what do you want to do?” Tony asks, each word distinct. “I can fund freelance work, or I can probably find something for you to do. Or you could sit around on your ass, and I’d fund that.”

 

“Why?” Clint asks bluntly.

 

Tony shrugs. “You’re still an Avenger. I figure that we’ll be needed again eventually, but that’s not going to do a hell of a lot of good if you can’t be found. Look, I don’t give a fuck what you want to do, but I’ll make sure you’re okay, whatever that means.”

 

Clint is used to flying without a net—going on missions without an extraction plan, and relying on himself and no one else. Tony’s offering a safety net.

 

“You going to make the same offer to the others?” Clint asks.

 

“Well, if Romanoff turns up again, sure,” Tony replies. “Same goes for the others if they ever come to me. You called first, so you get the first offer.”

 

Clint glances at Bruce. “What about Banner?”

 

“Banner’s already on my team,” Tony insists.

 

Bruce shrugs. “No offense, but I’ve never exactly trusted SHIELD, and right now I’m feeling pretty vindicated.”

 

Clint has to give him that point. He’s not sure he’d put his trust in an organization that built a cage just for him either. “Can I think about it?”

 

“Stay as long as you want,” Tony insists. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”

 

There’s a part of Clint that finds the offer incredibly tempting. He has never, not once in his life, been offered a free ride. Granted, the free ride comes with the string of needing to answer a call for the Avengers, but that’s not so bad.

 

He could spend the time doing good deeds, or volunteering somewhere, or find a side gig teaching archery to rich kids. Clint could do just about anything he wants, and the only thing he can think of doing is finding Coulson and making sure he’s okay.

 

“Thanks,” Clint says. “I’ll let you know what I decide.”

 

He has to go back to his apartment at some point, if only to clean out the trash and maybe knock the dust off his furniture.

 

Clint’s apartment is just as he’d left it, and he’s grateful to discover that he’d taken out the trash and cleared the fridge before he left. That makes things a little easier, and certainly less odorous.

 

But it still leaves him with no idea of what he ought to be doing, and he winds up opening his safe to look at his badge, mostly for the sake of nostalgia. After all, Clint can’t carry his SHIELD badge on most missions, including the last one, so he doesn’t see it too often.

 

Today, though, Clint picks it up, and numbers light up along the bottom, and that is definitely new.

 

“What the fuck?” he mutters.

 

It doesn’t take long for him to figure out that the numbers are coordinates, and either someone wants to lead him into a trap, or someone is sending him a message.

 

Given Tony’s suspicions about Fury’s status as a dead man, it’s entirely possible that the hidden message comes from him. It’s just his style. It’s also possible that Coulson has taken a page out of Fury’s book and has used this method of sending Clint a message. After all, it’s unlikely that a Hydra agent would look at their SHIELD badge.

 

Or, of course, it could be a trap. He decides it’s worth the risk, although he’s not an idiot.

 

Clint calls Tony and says, “I think I got a coded message from Coulson or maybe Fury, and I’m going to follow it. It might be a trap, though, so I figure it makes sense for someone else to know where I’m going.”

 

“Give me the coordinates,” Tony orders.

 

Clint reads them off, feeling as though he’s betraying someone, although he doesn’t know who.

 

“There’s nothing there, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Tony replies. “Do you need a lift?”

 

“Thought I’d go in a little more subtly than you usually manage,” Clint replies. “But I appreciate the offer.”

 

“When are you leaving?”

 

“ASAP.”

 

“Call me when you arrive, and then again when you make contact,” Tony orders. “If things get dicey, we’ll get you out, and at least we’ll know about one more enemy.”

 

“Or maybe another friend,” Clint replies.

 

He can hear the shrug in Tony’s voice. “One can only hope. Good luck, Barton.”

 

Tony ends the call abruptly, but Clint doesn’t really expect good phone manners from Stark, not that it matters, since Stark can definitely be relied upon to pull him out of a jam.

 

Clint knows about one of Fury’s secret bases, and it’s also in the middle of nowhere. This base is apparently deep in the Rocky Mountains, and Clint doesn’t have any trouble finding a flight from New York City to Denver and then he takes a drive.

 

He has to go over the Continental Divide to the western slope, and he’s grateful for his four-wheel drive as he takes narrow switchback roads that aren’t on any maps. Clint knows the coordinates, and he has a compass and his unerring sense of direction. If he has to, he’ll get out and walk.

 

When the road comes to an end, Clint does just that, grabbing his pack from the back of the car. He hesitates over his bow, whether to find a way to fit it into his pack, or to carry it, so it’s ready for use.

 

Clint pulls the bow out of its case and snaps it open with a flick of his wrist, and he finds a way to settle his quiver alongside his pack. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s not ideal. He won’t be able to draw as fast, but even at a slower speed, he can still do some damage.

 

He hikes for about six miles before he reaches the precise coordinates on his badge, and there’s pretty much nothing there, just like Tony had said.

 

“Come on, Coulson!” Clint shouts. “I know you’re here!” He pulls out his badge and holds it up. “You were the one who sent me the engraved invitation, right?”

 

There’s nothing.

 

“Fuck,” Clint mutters. “So much for showing up when called, or trying to find the bastard.”

 

“Barton.”

 

Clint freezes. He knows that voice. He holds his hands out, away from his sides as he turns to slowly face Coulson. “Rumors of your death, huh?”

 

“I was really dead,” Coulson replies. “No offense, but we’re going to need to confirm your identity.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I can understand that,” he replies. “I’d kind of like confirmation that you’re actually alive and, you know, _you_.”

 

“He’s Coulson.”

 

Clint turns his head to see May behind him. She’s armed, because May is _always_ armed, but she doesn’t have a weapon in her hands. “Hi, Melinda.”

 

“Good to see you again, Barton, sane and in one piece,” she replies.

 

“Good to be seen, I guess,” Clint replies. “You know, I hate dropping my bow on the ground, if one of you wants to take it.”

 

A faint smile reaches Coulson’s lips. “Keep the bow, but I’ll carry your quiver.”

 

Clint moves slowly, not wanting any movement to be misconstrued, and he hands his quiver to Coulson, trying not to let on to how much he wants to reach out and touch.

 

They’d been fairly close at one point, had worked a number of ops together as Strike Team Delta. Coulson had been the best handler Clint had worked with, hands down, and he’d mourned right along with Natasha when she’d told him what Loki had done.

 

What _Clint_ had done.

 

“Come on inside,” Coulson invites. “There are just a few routine screenings to make sure you’re not a Hydra plant.”

 

Clint swallows. “Yeah, sorry to give you cause to wonder.”

 

Because if Loki could take over, then Clint could be a Hydra plant, too.

 

Surprise crosses Coulson’s face. “Clint, I don’t think you’re Hydra, but our, um, host has strict policies. I don’t think he makes exceptions, even for Avengers.”

 

“Right.”

 

“How did you find this place?” Coulson asks.

 

Clint frowns. “The coordinates on my badge. I thought you—”

 

“Fury,” May says. “You did ask for direction, boss.”

 

“And he told me that it was up to me,” Coulson replies, sounding exasperated. “Never mind. Come on in, Agent Barton.”

 

Clint puts up with the tests, and the questions. In truth, he kind of welcomes it, because he wants to prove himself, to prove that he’s not Hydra.

 

“Sorry to have to put you through that, Agent Barton,” Koenig says cheerfully at the end. “Even an Avenger isn’t immune, I’m afraid.”

 

“I’m not much of an Avenger,” Clint replies self-deprecatingly. “Although I have to wonder if you’d put Banner through this.”

 

Koenig grimaces. “Well, with Dr. Banner’s permission, of course.”

 

“I think you can give Agent Barton his lanyard now,” Coulson says quietly, sounding amused.

 

“Of course,” Koenig says, suddenly deferential. “Sorry for the third degree, Agent Barton.”

 

Clint shrugs. “Trust me, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the SHIELD shrinks.”

 

Koenig hands Clint a lanyard with a slight bow. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the Playground, Agent Barton. And may I just say how much I admire you?”

 

Clint frowns. “Sure?”

 

“Clint, this way,” Coulson says. “Let’s talk.”

 

Coulson’s office is huge, much larger than the office he’d kept in the New York HQ, and Clint can see signs of the man he’d known here and there. The odd piece of Captain America memorabilia, a photograph of a much younger Coulson with a correspondingly younger Fury, and a picture of Strike Team Delta from their heyday.

 

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Clint says. “Not really what I expected.”

 

“It’s not quite what I expected either,” Coulson admits. “Have a seat.”

 

Clint sits in one of the chairs across from Coulson’s desk, and is surprised when Coulson takes the second chair, instead of putting a barrier between them. “It’s good to see you in one piece, boss.”

 

Coulson rolls his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

 

“Seems like you’re the guy in charge around here,” Clint protests. “That kind of puts you in charge.”

 

“But not of you,” Coulson counters. “Clint—SHIELD doesn’t exist anymore, not like it did.”

 

Clint stiffens. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

 

“I mean that Dir—Fury asked me to rebuild SHIELD from the ground up, but that’s going to take time. We aren’t the organization that we were.” Coulson’s expression is compassionate. “We might have need of someone with your skills eventually, but you’re an Avenger now.”

 

Clint blinks. It hurts, he thinks, and it all comes crashing down on him. He’d fought his way back into SHIELD’s good graces with Fury’s help after Loki had fucked with his head, and he’d been prepared to offer himself up to Coulson, to help him rebuild, only there’s no need for a fucked up archer with questionable loyalties.

 

“Right,” he says hoarsely. “That’s—of course. I get it. I’ll just…”

 

Clint stands, wanting to be anywhere but here, and thinks that maybe he should do what Natasha had done and disappear for a while. Years of having nothing had meant that he’d been pretty frugal with the money he’d earned from SHIELD. He has a nice little nest egg, and Tony had offered to bankroll him.

 

He has options, Clint thinks, even though what he’d wanted was to go back to SHIELD. He should be used to not getting what he wants at this point.

 

“Barton,” Coulson says sharply. “Sit down.”

 

He doesn’t, because he’s not part of SHIELD any longer, and he doesn’t have to take orders from Coulson, even if Fury had sent him here. “I don’t think I will. If you don’t want me around, I know how to get out of here.”

 

“Clint.” And there’s a note of pleading in Coulson’s voice now that stops Clint just short of the door. “I’m not saying that I don’t need _you_.”

 

Clint turns to face him. “You’re going to have to be a little more explicit with what you want from me, Phil,” he says, letting a note of sarcasm enter his voice. “Because I got left out to dry when Natasha and Rogers put all of SHIELD’s secrets out on the internet. I had to call Stark and Banner to dig me out, which they did, because they’re nice guys. But I had _no fucking clue_ what the _fuck_ had happened, and I’m fucking _tired_ of being in the _fucking_ dark because I have no _fucking_ idea whether it’s because no one trusts me or if they just _fucking forgot I existed_.”

 

He doesn’t think he’s ever been quite so unprofessional with any of his SHIELD handlers, but Clint has had just about enough, and he’s ready to call it quits and go teach archery at the Y somewhere. Somewhere remote. He’s heard that all the kids want to learn these days.

 

Coulson takes a deep, audible breath. “Fury made me director of SHIELD, and told me to rebuild it from the ground up.”

 

“And you don’t need me,” Clint says sharply, ready to leave.

 

“I don’t need another asset,” Coulson replies, sounding a little impatient. “What I need is someone—I need someone who knew me, who isn’t reporting to SHIELD or anyone else. I need a friend, Clint.”

 

That stops him cold, and Clint drops back down into the chair he’d vacated. “I’m listening.”

 

“What Fury did to bring me back…” Coulson stops, shakes his head. “I really was dead for days, and he made the call to bring me back, even after I had advised him to abandon the project, and then he altered my memories so I wouldn’t find out.”

 

Clint feels an unwilling sympathy. “Fuck, Phil.”

 

“Yeah.” He sighs. “Fury asked me to rebuild SHIELD, and he probably wanted me to ask you to be a part of it, but I can’t have you under my command, Clint.”

 

Clint finally realizes what he’s getting at. “You don’t think the Avengers are a part of SHIELD anymore.”

 

“I don’t think they can be and retain the public’s confidence,” Coulson admits. “And you _are_ an Avenger.”

 

Clint nods. “Okay, I get it. What do you need me to do?”

 

“I don’t know,” Coulson says quietly. “I—I don’t know what kind of lasting effects Fury’s life-saving methods are going to have, but they might not be good.”

 

“Please don’t ask me to take you down,” Clint says.

 

Coulson shakes his head. “May will do that if it comes down to it. I just—I need an ally, someone I can trust to look after himself. I need someone I can trust to tell me when I’m fucking up, Clint.”

 

That’s actually harder than just working for Coulson, Clint knows, but it’s a mark of Coulson’s humility that he would even think that he needed someone to tell him that. Fury never had, although Clint knows that he’d accepted criticism from those working under him.

 

“I don’t know who I am without SHIELD at this point,” Clint admits.

 

Coulson smiles sympathetically. “Me neither. I guess we might have to figure it out together.”

 

Clint nods, knowing that he’ll do whatever Coulson asks of him. “I need to know who else was dirty that we know of. I didn’t ask for a list from Tony, but it might be helpful.”

 

“Of course,” Coulson agrees immediately. “And there might still be jobs for you as an independent contractor.”

 

Clint shrugs. “Sure. I guess we can help each other out, right?”

 

Coulson leans forward and grabs Clint’s arm, which is the first time they’ve touched. He feels solid enough, and Clint closes his eyes. He wonders if this is how it feels to be forgiven. “I don’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“My hands, my bow,” Clint says hoarsely. “I think you know that.”

 

“Not your heart,” Coulson replies. “I would have contacted you, but I had assumed you knew.”

 

Clint shakes his head. “No. Not until Stark and Banner told me.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Coulson replies. “Fury said that the Avengers didn’t need to know, but I hadn’t thought—”

 

Clint remembers that Coulson had called him an Avenger, and he thinks this is what he meant. Fury had lied to them—to the Avengers—to bring them together. He’d kept lying for reasons of his own.

 

Maybe, Clint thinks, because Coulson had always been his ace in the hole, the man who couldn’t be corrupted.

 

“It’s okay,” Clint replies. “Whatever you need from me. Why don’t you start by introducing me to your team?”

 


	2. Steve Rogers

“I probably should have called ahead.”

 

“So, call now,” Sam says easily. “It’s not much of a heads up, but it’s something.”

 

Steve has been feeling just a little bit guilty for how much he’s leaned on Sam in these last couple of weeks. Not that Sam seems to mind, but between showing up on his doorstep and dragging him into a conflict that had nearly killed him, and now proposing to drag him along on some road trip to locate Steve’s boyhood friend—

 

There’s got to be a limit, right? At least, Steve thinks there has to be, and so he’s here, hat in hand, coming to beg a favor from a guy he hasn’t seen in a couple of years.

 

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “Maybe it’s better just to show up.”

 

“Hey, you know him better than I do,” Sam replies.

 

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not sure I know him at all,” he admits, but he presses forward. He doesn’t think Tony would refuse to see him, unless he’s feeling pissy for whatever reason—and Steve admits that Tony Stark probably has more than a few reasons for being angry right now.

 

“You knew his father, right?” Sam asks as they step into the lobby of Stark Tower.

 

Steve nods. “Yeah, sure, although it’s a little weird to think about.”

 

It’s always strange to think about the people he’d known back then, when they’d all been young, and the world had been both startlingly different and remarkably the same. Steve wonders what Howard would have said when he found out that SHIELD had been infiltrated from the beginning by the enemy.

 

He wonders what SHIELD had been thinking to allow Zola a place within the organization, but he’d done his reading in recent days. The US government had opened its doors to monsters, provided they had something of value to offer.

 

Compromise, Steve thinks, is never without risks.

 

“Captain Rogers,” the receptionist greets him. “Go right on up. I’ll let Mr. Stark know you’re on your way.”

 

Steve blinks, still not used to the celebrity, or maybe Tony had given his entire staff pictures of the Avengers along with instructions for what to do should one of them turn up. He hadn’t dared hope that Tony would greet him with open arms, but that seems to be what’s happening.

 

“Well, that was a lot easier than I thought it would be,” Sam remarks once they’re on the elevator.

 

“You’re telling me,” Steve murmurs.

 

To be honest, Steve isn’t sure he trusts anybody these days, other than those Hydra had marked for death. Banner and Stark were supposed to be killed in the first round of assassinations, and Steve thinks that’s probably a good sign.

 

Plus, Steve knows how well Tony takes orders. If there’s anybody less likely to be a Hydra plant, Steve can’t think of who that might be.

 

The Penthouse is empty when the elevator doors open, and a British voice says, “Welcome, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark has directed me to inform you that he’ll be with you presently.”

 

Sam’s staring at the ceiling wide-eyed, and he lets out a low whistle. “I knew Stark went for hi-tech, but that’s something else.”

 

“That’s actually Jarvis.” Bruce emerges from another area of the Penthouse, an area Steve hasn’t been in before, and so he has no idea what Banner had been doing back there. “Hey, Steve.”

 

“Dr. Banner,” Steve says politely, and then forces a smile. “Bruce.”

 

Bruce’s expression warms slightly. “It’s good to see you in one piece.” He looks at Sam pointedly. “Can I get you two anything?”

 

“Oh, sorry,” Steve says, still thrown by his appearance. He’d been aware that Bruce was working for Stark Industries, but in his head that hadn’t translated into Bruce being _here_ , in the Penthouse of the Tower. “Sam Wilson, Dr. Bruce Banner. Bruce, this is Sam.”

 

“It’s a pleasure,” Sam says, holding out his hand with an enthusiasm that Steve suspects Bruce doesn’t often see, especially among people who know about his alter ego.

 

Bruce shakes Sam’s hand and raises an eyebrow and glances at Steve in a silent question, and Steve nods. At that confirmation, Bruce’s smile becomes a little wider. “Likewise,” he says politely. “Tony should be up soon. I think he was right in the middle of something when we got the call that you were downstairs.”

 

“You were with him?” Steve asks. He’s feeling off-kilter, and he’s trying to get the lay of the land here. Everything is off balance these days, everything he’d believed he could count on now laid to waste.

 

Well, not everything. Steve still has the same ideals he fought for 70 years ago, and Sam’s solid presence is a reminder that there are still people he can trust in the world.

 

“We’ve been catching up on a few things, and making some inquiries of our own,” Bruce replies. “Let’s just say that Tony was incredibly irritated that his technology had been used by Hydra, and was then released on the net for all to see.”

 

Steve winces, since that had been his doing. He doesn’t regret it, because the only way to deal with Hydra had been to shine a bright light on it, and that had meant exposing SHIELD’s secrets as well.

 

Still, he knows there’s going to be fallout.

 

“Sorry,” he says, not really meaning it, but not knowing what else to say.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “I think we both understand why you did it, but we’re doing what we can to clean up Hydra’s mess on our end.” Some darker emotion flits across Bruce’s face. “Plus there was the information on Tony’s parents. Try not to bring that up.”

 

“His parents?” Sam asks, just as the elevator door slides open.

 

It’s bad timing, Steve can tell from the expression on Bruce’s face, and Tony says, “Yeah, my parents, who were apparently killed by Hydra.”

 

Sam shoots Bruce an apologetic look, and Bruce shakes his head. “Tony.”

 

“I’m fine, I’m over it,” Tony says, but of course he’s not. His expression is brittle, like he’s running on too little sleep and too much caffeine, and Steve has been a soldier on the front lines for long enough to recognize it. When he glances at Sam, Steve knows that he’s seen it, too. “Steve, long time, no see, and who’s your friend?”

 

“Sam Wilson,” Sam says, holding out a hand with that disarming grin he has. It turns out that it works on Tony, too, because he returns the gesture with a hint of a smile.

 

Steve remembers Tony snapping at him, “We’re not soldiers,” and he wonders if Sam’s way with vets will translate to Tony.

 

But Tony’s eyes have grown sharp and knowing, and he says, “Wilson. You were the guy with the wings.”

 

That’s a big part of the reason Steve has come here, because he feels like he owes Sam, and he knows how much Sam had loved his wings. Steve thinks there’s a good possibility that Tony can build something even better.

 

Also, even though Steve has some money set aside, enough to get by for a while, he has no fucking clue what he’s going to do next.

 

“That’s right,” Sam says easily.

 

“I can build you something better,” Tony says, offering before Steve can even ask, and it’s that kind of casual generosity, mixed with scientific curiosity, that Steve remembers Howard having. “I assume that’s why you brought him, Steve.”

 

Steve shrugs. “Among other reasons. I wanted to see how you were.”

 

“Me? I’m great,” Tony says dismissively. “I never liked SHIELD anyway. You guys want a drink?”

 

Steve doesn’t miss how Bruce’s eyes follow Tony, or the worried lines around Bruce’s eyes and mouth. He’s not sure if that worry is just for Tony, or if Bruce is worried for his own reasons.

 

He knows that Bruce had plenty of reasons to distrust SHIELD, but SHIELD had gotten the Army off Bruce’s back. This is a whole new world they’re dealing with now, with shifting alliances and power structures.

 

“I’d take a beer if you have one,” Sam says.

 

“Same.” Steve might not feel the effects of alcohol, but he can see the point of being social.

 

Tony hands them each a beer and puts ice in a couple of glasses, pouring out a couple of fingers of amber liquid in each one. Bruce takes a sip from his glass, but Steve notices that he doesn’t do much more than that. Tony, on the other hand, takes a healthy swallow.

 

“So, thank you for putting all of my proprietary engineering schematics out on the internet,” Tony says. “That was great.”

 

Steve reminds himself that he _can_ shatter a beer bottle without trying too hard. “Tony…I’m sorry.”

 

He’s not sorry, but he figures he can make the gesture.

 

Tony waves off his apology. “No, you’re not. I can tell.”

 

Steve shrugs. “I didn’t have a lot of options at the time.”

 

“And you didn’t call us to see if you could find another one,” Tony says. “Or to tell us that Hydra put us on the kill list. You do realize that we were about two seconds away from dying, right? A heads up might have been nice.”

 

“ _Tony_.” Bruce’s voice holds a sharp warning. “I think we all know exactly how busy we can get in the middle of an emergency. You know, like when you didn’t say anything about the Mandarin.”

 

“Okay, that was a totally different situation,” Tony says. “No one else on the team was in danger.”

 

Steve tries to remember if Bruce had been this good at derailing Tony before and can’t.

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “Super soldiers, blowing people up, kidnapping the president, possibly taking over the free world… Any of this ringing a bell?”

 

“But it’s not a kill order!” Tony protests.

 

Steve looks over at Sam, who appears delighted to have front row seats to see the show.

 

“If I say that I’m really sorry I didn’t call you in the middle of an emergency when I didn’t know who to trust, can we get past this?” Steve asks.

 

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Are you sorry?”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t call and give you a heads up,” Steve says sincerely. “And I’m really hoping you can give me a hand.”

 

Tony shrugs and takes another swallow of his drink. “Okay, you’re forgiven. This time. Don’t let there be a next time. We’re a team.”

 

“And don’t forget it,” Steve replies.

 

Bruce smirks. “I think what Tony means to say is how can we help you gentlemen?”

 

“I—we want to go after Bucky,” Steve says. When Tony and Bruce look confused, Steve says, “The Winter Soldier.”

 

“Wait, that’s your childhood friend, Bucky?” Tony asks. “The same guy who tried to kill you?”

 

“See, that’s what I said,” Sam says.

 

“He saved my life,” Steve says, exasperated. “It’s not his fault his mind got wiped, and he was brainwashed to be an assassin for the Russians.”

 

Bruce stares down at his drink. “Speaking of words you never expect to hear strung together in a sentence…”

 

“Will you help?” Steve asks.

 

Tony leans back against the couch cushions. “What do you need? Money, equipment, weapons, transportation?”

 

“All of the above?” Steve asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “I could do that, but it’s going to come with strings.”

 

Steve braces himself. “What are the conditions?”

 

“Number one, if someone targets an Avenger, they get a phone call,” Tony says. “Or if, you know, Hydra has infiltrated the top levels of government and you’re putting a bunch of secrets on the internet. I can even set up an automatic message, so all it will take is the press of a button.”

 

Steve glares at him. “I told you I was sorry.”

 

“And I said you were forgiven. I’m now telling you what the conditions of me giving you a shit ton of money are,” Tony replies. “Can we move on?”

 

“Agreed,” Steve says.

 

“Number two, if I’m bankrolling the Avengers, we aren’t going to be reporting to a government agency,” Tony says. “We’re completely independent.”

 

“How are we going to decide what jobs to take?” Steve asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “I imagine we could probably talk about it like adults, but I don’t know that I want to be taking orders from people I don’t trust.”

 

Steve can’t argue with that. “Fair enough.”

 

“That’s pretty much it,” Tony admits.

 

Steve glances at Sam, and he shrugs. “Up to you, man.”

 

The question is whether Steve trusts Tony, and he understands that’s the real issue here. They’re making an agreement to trust each other—to trust that they’ll make the right call when facing an emergency. To trust that the Avengers as a group, as a team, is strong enough to be completely separate from SHIELD or any other government organization.

 

Steve suspects that this is the point where the Avengers could either fall apart or come together. Barton is off doing his own thing, as is Natasha. Last Steve had heard, Thor was laying low in London with Jane Foster, at least when he’s actually on Earth. Bruce and Tony are clearly a team of two, but that doesn’t mean there’s room for anyone else in their partnership. Steve has Sam, and his own mission to find Bucky, but that’s it.

 

Maybe it’s time to make a commitment, instead of just getting thrown together

 

“I’m in,” Steve says quietly.

 

Tony nods. “All right. Put a list together of everything you need, and we’ll see what we can do. Wilson, please tell me you brought me something with the schematics and measurements.”

 

Sam hesitates. “I didn’t know you were going to agree to do this so fast.”

 

“We’re staying in town right now,” Steve replies. “We can bring it by tomorrow.”

 

“Have dinner with us tonight,” Bruce says. “And bring it then.”

 

Tony gives Bruce a sour look. “I thought we were doing that thing tonight.”

 

“That thing can wait,” Bruce replies, looking amused. “I think Steve might be on a little more of a schedule.”

 

“Right, he’s on _my_ schedule,” Tony says. “Since I’m the one bankrolling him.”

 

Bruce looks at Steve. “Please come over for dinner tonight so that I can have a break. I will be forever in your debt.”

 

Sam’s openly grinning now. “You know, Steve, I think we’d probably better come for dinner tonight, if only to keep Dr. Banner happy.”

 

“What are you working on?” Steve asks, his curiosity piqued.

 

“Seriously, that much information gets dumped on the internet, what do you think I’m working on?” Tony asks. “Also, pulling SHIELD agents out of hot water where we can. You do have some understanding of just how many agents’ identities are out there now, right? Including Barton’s?”

 

Steve had thought about it, but he still would have made the same choice. “How is Hawkeye?”

 

Tony looks a little disgruntled, and Steve guesses it’s because he hadn’t risen to the bait and tried to defend his decision.

 

Somehow, Steve doesn’t think he’s going to let this go anytime soon.

 

“He’s fine,” Bruce says. “He’s Tony’s favorite Avenger right now, since he called Tony for assistance.”

 

Tony snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous, Bruce. _You’re_ my favorite Avenger. Barton runs a close second, though.”

 

“Where does Steve rank?” Sam asks, looking absolutely delighted.

 

Tony smirks. “I’ll let you guess, but I think I might like you better right now.”

 

“Seriously?” Sam asks.

 

“You just handed me an interesting engineering project,” Tony replies. “I like you.”

 

“Come back at seven,” Bruce says. “I’ll cook.”

 

“You cook?” Steve asks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “On occasion.”

 

“Better than most,” Tony admits. “I think Pepper might be here, too.”

 

Steve hesitates. “Are you sure—”

 

“We’ll see you at seven,” Bruce says firmly. “Bring your list, and your schematics.”

 

Steve knows when he’s been dismissed, and he and Sam take their leave. Once they’re out on the street, Sam says, “So, what’s the deal with those two?”

 

“Who? Stark and Banner?”

 

“Yeah, are they sleeping together or just bromantic?” Sam asks.

 

Steve frowns. “You know, I have no idea what you just asked.”

 

“Good friends with a homoerotic undercurrent,” Sam explains.

 

Steve shrugs. “Beats me with those two, but last I heard, Stark was still with Pepper Potts.”

 

Sam shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me, I was just curious.”

 

Steve supposes that it’s a good question. “Probably best just to assume that they’re BFFs.”

 

“Gold star on the use of that term, man.”

 

“I’m getting there,” Steve replies.

 

Sam takes a deep breath. “Are you okay with this? You aren’t exactly Stark’s biggest fan, and he’s not yours either.”

 

“Stark’s okay,” Steve says. “And I can’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.”

 

Sam chuckles. “You know I’m behind you 100%, but I gotta say, I really want to see what Stark can do with my wings.”

 

Steve smiles. “Yeah, well, like father like son, I guess. Howard was the one who came up with my shield.”

 

“So?” Sam prompts.

 

Steve glances over at him. “I think we need him, Sam. Maybe we need each other.”

 

“Never a bad idea to have friends in this world,” Sam points out. When Steve grimaces, he adds, “Or allies.”

 

“Maybe friends,” Steve admits. “The leads that Natasha gave us are going cold, but Tony’s got resources that even SHIELD doesn’t have.”

 

“Especially now,” Sam observes.

 

Steve shrugs. “Especially now.”

 

“Never thought I’d be invited to eat dinner with Tony Stark,” Sam says. “You think he’d let me take a selfie with him?”

 

Steve just has to laugh. “Ask him. He’s never minded the camera before.”

 

~~~~~

 

Steve expects dinner to be horrible, filled with Tony’s constant reminders that Steve had dumped all of SHIELD’s secrets out for the public to see, and barbed comments about how Steve had screwed a bunch of people over.

 

Instead, Pepper meets them at the door, still in her skirt and blouse, but with her heels discarded by the door. “Hi, Steve. It’s great to see you again.”

 

Steve had met her only once before, briefly, at some fundraiser that Fury had insisted Steve attend. “It’s really nice to see you, Ms. Potts,” Steve replies.

 

“Pepper,” she replies. “And you must be Sam.”

 

Sam shakes her hand with a grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet the woman who graced the cover of _Forbes_.”

 

Pepper laughs. “You _are_ a charmer. I hope you two are hungry. Bruce is making curry tonight.”

 

Steve hasn’t had curry before, and he can’t remember if it’s on his list, but Sam whistles. “Is that what I smell? It smells good!”

 

“Thanks!” Bruce calls from the kitchen. “Tony’s getting cleaned up, but he should be out in a minute.”

 

Sam gives Steve a look that he can’t quite decipher. Steve thinks there’s a message there, but they haven’t quite reached the point where they can speak without actually _speaking_. Steve thinks they’re getting there, though.

 

“Do you guys want a drink?” Pepper asks. “Beer, wine, something else?”

 

“I’d take a beer,” Sam says cheerfully.

 

Steve decides he’s going to let Sam take the lead, because he’s feeling a little off-balance. He’d come expecting another inquisition, and he gets…this.

 

“Steve?” Pepper prompts.

 

“A beer would be fine,” Steve replies. “Thanks.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Bruce says from his position next to the stove. “We made Tony promise to stop bringing up the thing with SHIELD. He’ll probably grill you on what you need and insist on creating upgrades for everything, and you should let him.”

 

“No skin off my nose,” Sam says. “I’ve seen the kind of upgrades Stark Industries comes up with.”

 

Steve grimaces. “Sounds great.”

 

Bruce smirks. “Don’t worry. Pepper’s here to rein him in if necessary.”

 

Pepper pats Steve on the shoulder. “It’s dinner, Steve. And some shop talk. You can relax for a bit.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve says, although he doesn’t remember the last time he’d been able to relax. Maybe in the hospital, right after everything had gone down, with Marvin Gaye playing in the background.

 

The need to find Bucky is a constant drumbeat in the back of his mind, the knowledge that he’d had a role in tearing the old world down, the knowledge that he has to try and fix it.

 

Steve had come to Tony for help, however uncomfortable that made him, and Tony’s response had been pretty much what he’d expected. Bruce and Pepper have thrown him for a loop.

 

“Steve,” Bruce says quietly, and he remembers Bruce using that tone on the helicarrier, when he’d asked if something smelled a little fishy. It’s kind and knowing, and Steve doesn’t know what to do about it. “Why don’t you sit down? Drink your beer. Dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”

 

Steve sits and half-listens as Sam asks Bruce some questions about his cooking techniques, and he realizes what it is that’s throwing him off.

 

For the first time in weeks, Steve doesn’t have to take the lead. There are people who are offering to take care of things for him. Maybe it doesn’t sit quite right, but the relief is palpable.

 

“Smells good!” Tony announces, emerging from the back of the Penthouse. “Pepper, love of my life,” he says expansively, kissing her soundly. “Did you eviscerate anyone today?”

 

“Only the people who deserved it,” Pepper replies with a half-smile and an eye roll that suggests she’s used to Tony’s antics and has decided to find them amusing.

 

“Rogers, Wilson, I hope you brought the data,” Tony says.

 

“Dinner first,” Bruce insists. “We can talk after we eat.”

 

Tony shrugs. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I doubt we’ll be doing much talking.”

 

Bruce just shakes his head. “Sam, you want to pull the naan out of the oven?”

 

The curry is delicious, the naan chewy, and Steve goes back for a second serving, and then a third. He might have thought it rude except Sam takes a second helping, too, and Bruce looks incredibly pleased with himself, so he doesn’t feel too bad.

 

“My compliments to the chef,” Steve says when he’s wiping his plate clean with the last bit of naan.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Thanks. I picked up a few things while I was traveling.”

 

“How long were you in India?” Sam asks innocently.

 

Steve wonders if it’s a breach of protocol to ask Bruce about his time spent on the run, but Bruce just smiles. “About nine months. I went back after New York for a little while, but it didn’t take.”

 

“Admit it, you wanted to spend some time in Candyland,” Tony says.

 

Bruce gives him a look. “Yes, Tony. I came back for the equipment.”

 

“And stayed for the company,” Tony adds.

 

“Well, I have to admit that Pepper is good company,” Bruce says with a sly look at Pepper.

 

Tony’s squawk of outrage makes Steve laugh, and Sam looks like he’s enjoying the show as well. “Okay, fun’s over,” Tony insists. “I demand we talk business.”

 

“That’s a first,” Pepper mutters.

 

They pile their dishes in the sink at Pepper’s insistence. “We’ll take care of the mess later,” she says. “Go.”

 

Steve isn’t quite sure whose lab they wind up in. It might be Tony’s, judging by a gauntlet sitting on a bench, or Bruce’s, if the way Bruce apologizes for the half-dozen mugs littering a work station are anything to go by.

 

“So, here’s the thing,” Tony says as Bruce gathers up the mugs to deposit them somewhere. “Your pal Bucky might have been a puppet for whoever was pulling his strings, but he’s still an assassin, and he still has all of those skills. There’s a reason no one really thought he existed until recently.”

 

Steve nods cautiously. “Natasha called him a ghost.”

 

“She would know,” Tony admits, looking at the data Natasha had presented to Steve, flipping through the pages quickly. “That’s not to say that I can’t find him, but it’s going to take time.”

 

Steve swallows his disappointment. “I figured.”

 

“Now, between what Agent Romanoff gave you, and what I’ve been able to dig up in the last few hours, I give it about a week before the next sighting,” Tony says. “But from what I’ve seen so far, I doubt he’s going to stay in one place long enough for you to get there.”

 

Steve frowns. “So, you’re saying it’s hopeless?”

 

“Did I say that?” Tony demands, looking at Sam. “Did I say anything about it being hopeless?”

 

“Not that I heard,” Sam replies. “I heard difficult.”

 

Tony points at him. “Exactly. Difficult. Of course, with enough data, and over time, I might be able to predict his next move so that you can be where he’s going before he’s there.”

 

Steve blinks, parsing that sentence. “You can do that?”

 

“I can try,” Tony admits. “In the meantime, I can provide funding for you to do whatever it is that you want to do.”

 

Steve thinks about that. “I know SHIELD wasn’t what I thought it was, but the work we were doing was important.”

 

Tony’s suddenly deadly serious. “My dad helped found SHIELD. I know I don’t need to tell you that, but I think it’s worth saving. That’s why I’m helping you.”

 

“Thanks,” Steve says sincerely.

 

“Great,” Tony says. “Now that we’ve got the sentimental crap out of the way, let me just say that one, I know Fury is alive, and two, so is Coulson.”

 

Steve freezes in place, and he can see Sam’s worried expression out of the corner of his eye. “What?” Steve finally manages.

 

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay, you know what? You can’t lie worth a damn. I won’t believe Fury is dead until I see his corpse, and your face just told me everything I needed to know.”

 

Steve decides to ignore that in favor of the bigger news. “Coulson?”

 

“It was all in there,” Bruce says, sitting down next to Steve. “We’ve been combing through the files you put out on the web, looking for anything we might need to lock down.”

 

“SHIELD kept extensive files on the Avengers Initiative,” Tony supplies. “Plus, my proprietary information.”

 

“Tony,” Bruce warns.

 

Tony waves a hand. “Point being, we found the secret files on how Fury planned to revive one of us if we were to be killed, and we found information on Coulson, including video files time stamped well after his death.”

 

“He’s alive,” Steve says, and wonders why Fury didn’t tell him that.

 

“We think he’s still with SHIELD, or what’s left of it,” Bruce says, sounding apologetic. “He has his own team now.”

 

“Why wouldn’t Fury tell us?” Steve asks, bewildered, knowing that he’s confirming Tony’s guess.

 

Tony shakes his head. “Remember what I told you, Cap? He’s _the_ spy. His secrets have secrets. He never tells anybody everything. I happen to know this because I have _a lot_ of computers going through those files, including Jarvis.”

 

“And because Tony never closed his backdoor into SHIELD,” Bruce supplies. “Fury thought he closed it, but Tony found a better one.”

 

Steve would swear that the look on Bruce’s face is almost fond. “Okay, so where does that leave us?”

 

“I’m still standing by my conditions,” Tony says. “Although if I’m going to trust anybody who used to be SHIELD, it would be Coulson.”

 

Steve waits for the punch line, and Bruce says, “Just because we think the Avengers should be an independent entity doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pick up a few allies along the way.”

 

“Wait,” Sam says. “Who is this Coulson guy?”

 

Steve is still reeling a bit. “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, he’s the guy that brought the Avengers together the first time. I want to talk to him.”

 

“Tracking him down is going to be a bit of a problem,” Tony admits. “Although Barton seemed to think he had a few ideas. I’ll let you know if he finds something.”

 

Steve nods, unable to think of an objection. He has no idea how to track down a dead man, not the way Tony likely does. “Yeah, okay.”

 

“Just one thing,” Tony says. “About your friend.”

 

Steve looks Tony dead in the eye, ready for any and all objections. “Yeah?”

 

“What are you going to do when you find him?” Tony asks. Steve opens his mouth to give a hot reply, but Tony forges on. “Look, I’m not saying _don’t_ find him, I’m asking what you’re going to do if it turns out he doesn’t want to be found, or maybe he’s not ready to come in.”

 

Steve had thought about that a lot in the last couple of weeks, and he doesn’t have a good answer. “I guess I keep reminding him of who he was,” Steve finally says. “As often as he needs to hear it.”

 

Tony glances at Bruce with a raised eyebrow, and Bruce shakes his head a bit. “Sometimes it takes a few tries,” Bruce says quietly.

 

“Now, Wilson, let’s see the designs for those wings of yours,” Tony says, changing the subject. “I’m sure I can do better.”

 

Steve stares at the ground, uncertain of how to feel about this turn of events.

 

“It might be better this way,” Bruce says in an undertone while Tony’s grilling Sam on the flight suit, and the pros and cons of it. “Not being beholden to SHIELD, I mean.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve allows. “I wanted it to be easy, you know. I feel like it used to be easier to know the good guys from the bad.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Maybe the bad guys got better at hiding. Or maybe the lines just got blurred along the way.”

 

“Or maybe it was never that easy?” Steve suggests.

 

Bruce smiles. “Maybe.”

 

Steve watches Tony and thinks of Howard Stark and his legacy, of building weapons and machines to fuel wars, of building an agency that became the very thing that Steve had been forced to dismantle.

 

He wonders what Peggy would say about all of this, if she were still the girl he’d known 70 years ago. He wonders if part of his need to find Bucky isn’t at least partly fueled by a need to hold onto some piece of his past—or to reclaim it.

 

“It’s good not to give up on your friends,” Bruce says softly, as though reading Steve’s mind. “If there’s any chance of saving him, you should try.”

 

Steve glances over at him. “You’re the first person to say that about him.”

 

“Think about who you’re talking to,” Bruce suggests. “There are plenty of people out there who still think I should be chucked into a deep, dark hole.”

 

“There are plenty of people out there who are idiots.”

 

Bruce looks pleased. “Tony would say that’s just about everyone.”

 

Steve isn’t quite sure what to say to that, although a ready insult springs to his mind. “What are we going to do about Coulson?”

 

“No idea, Cap,” Bruce says quietly. “I think we’re forging our own path from here on out.”

 

Steve looks at Sam, who’s holding up his cell phone, obviously taking a selfie with Tony, and he feels a faint sense of hope.

 

At least he’s not alone in all of this.


	3. Natasha Romanoff

She winds up in Russia, in Moscow, which is where it had all started, near as she can tell. Somehow, it seems fitting to come back here to find a glimpse of who she might be when no one is asking her to be anyone at all.

 

The easiest thing to do would be to disappear completely, remake herself from the ground up, and start afresh.

 

She has never chosen the easiest path, however, and has no plans to start now.

 

There are undoubtedly other things she could be doing to help the efforts to rebuild SHIELD, or track down the Winter Soldier, or even to root out the remains of Hydra, but Natasha is a spy, and those skills will only be of use if she can _use_ them.

 

And to do that, she needs a cover, one that is impeccable, that she can take anywhere, that’s above reproach.

 

Natasha Romanoff needs to disappear, or maybe she just needs to find out who she is when everything else is pared away.

 

She has been unmade again, but this time, she will rebuild herself.

 

There is still a chill in the air in Moscow, but the sun is bright today as she sips strong Russian tea and eats _vatrushka_ while waiting for her contact.

 

For now, she is content. It’s been a long time since she has been able to do this, without waiting for a mark, or planning her next kill. Now, she is waiting to hear from an old friend, that is all.

 

She has ordered a second cup of tea when Dmitri sits down across from her. That is not his real name, of course, but it doesn’t matter. Dmitri deals in false names and identities, and he is the best in the world.

 

He gives her a disapproving look, and says in Russian, “All of them, Miss Romanoff?”

 

Natasha shrugs, and replies in the same language. “I didn’t have the time to be sentimental.”

 

“Are you ever?” Dmitri asks.

 

“Rarely,” Natasha replies, although she’s still wearing the arrow necklace that Clint had given her as a joke.

 

Dmitri sighs. “Identities take time to build, you understand. Also, money, for papers. You have money now that you are not working for them?”

 

Natasha smiles. “I am Russian. I have been saving for a rainy day, and it’s pouring outside.”

 

He laughs appreciatively. “You were always a canny one, _devochka moya_.”

 

“Can you help me?” she asks.

 

“Help you? But of course,” Dmitri replies. “I can get you papers, identities, whatever you want so long as the price is right. The real question is whether you can still disappear. Your face has been all over the news, national and international. You may change your hair, your gait, your language, and that will fool some, but you need a better method than that.”

 

Natasha thinks of the disguise she’d worn to impersonate Councilwoman Hawley. She had lost the mask, but if she had another—or even a half dozen—she could do a better job.

 

If her face is all over the news, then Natasha will find a way to wear a different face. But for that, she needs resources she doesn’t have, which means she’ll probably need Stark.

 

She keeps her swearing purely internal, but a long string of curses goes through her head.

 

“I can find new faces,” Natasha finally says. “There’s a man I know who can help with that.”

 

“How nice to have allies, yes?” Dmitri asks. “I will need pictures of these new faces if I am to create identities for them.”

 

Natasha nods. “I’ll get you pictures. For right now, I need identities that don’t require anything so high tech.”

 

“As you wish. Do you have these pictures?” Dmitri asks.

 

Natasha passes him an envelope with enough money to get him started, as well as a few pictures of herself with different wigs, and different makeup. It will be better when she can contact Tony to get the tech she needs, but she doesn’t have the luxury of waiting. “I will contact you with more information later.”

 

“You were always my best customer,” Dmitri says fondly. “I will provide whatever you need, of course.”

 

“Thank you, Dmitri,” she replies. “You are, as always, the best.”

 

“And don’t you forget it, child,” he replies affectionately. “I think you will need such people as I in the time to come, yes? The underworld may not have always worked with SHIELD, but there are those of us who believe that Hydra is worse.”

 

“Hydra is a terrible scourge,” Natasha replies. “They would stamp out all expressions of freedom, even the black market.”

 

Dmitri shrugs. “The black market is not so easily stamped out, as the Nazis discovered, as did Stalin and the communists. But your point is taken. It is better now.”

 

“I’ll be in touch in a week,” Natasha promises. “And then later for the rest of the documents.”

 

For a week, she rediscovers Moscow as an adult. She knows that she is being followed by today’s version of the KGB, but she ignores them. They do not threaten her now, and she doubts that they will. She still holds an American passport under the name of Natasha Romaoff—SHIELD had done that much for her—and she’s not doing anything that could be regarded as a threat.

 

When she meets with Dmitri again, he passes her an envelope. “You will find all you need in there,” he says as he sips his tea. “It will be enough to get you back to the United States under an alias, if you choose. There’s a student visa included. Free of charge, for such a good customer.”

 

Natasha can see the sense in that, and she smiles. “Thank you.”

 

“Of course,” Dmitri replies. “I expect that you will come to me for all your needs from here on out.”

 

“Who else?” Natasha asks. “Perhaps I will even suggest that the remnants of SHIELD use you for their papers. There will be others.”

 

Dmitri laughs heartily. “To be working for the good guys after so long!” he says in English. “It will be like old times, _devochka moya_.”

 

Natasha had her suspicions, but this is the first time Dmitri had confirmed them. Dmitri had provided fake passports and visas out of the Soviet Union prior to the fall of the Berlin Wall.

 

“Happy to provide you with a trip down memory lane,” Natasha replies, amused. “And thank you.”

 

He shrugs. “Take care of yourself. There are many enemies these days.”

 

“Always,” she agrees.

 

She flies back to the United States under her own name—or at least the name that the world knows her by—and heads for New York. She tries to call Clint, but he’s done the smart thing and disconnected his old phone. They’ll meet up again eventually, and hopefully Clint will forgive her for spilling his secrets, too.

 

Natasha doesn’t have a lot of options for tech. The mask she’d worn to impersonate Hawley had been from Stark, and the mods on Fury’s vehicle had been Stark technology, too. If Natasha is going to be able to do her job, she needs Stark tech.

 

And for that, she needs to face Stark.

 

Natasha isn’t looking forward to it, but it must be done. She suspects that she’s going to have some placating to do.

 

The receptionist in the lobby of Stark Tower gives her a long look. “I’ll see if Mr. Stark is available.”

 

Natasha suspects that Tony might make her wait just to be an asshole, but the receptionist says, “Mr. Stark says you can go on up and wait for him.”

 

Okay, so Tony isn’t going to make her wait in the lobby, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to make her wait.

 

She is moderately surprised to find Bruce waiting for her, looking rather polished in a black suit and blue shirt. “Agent Romaoff, it’s nice to see you again.”

 

“And you,” she says carefully. “I didn’t realize you were staying here now.”

 

Bruce shrugs. “Sometimes. I have a place of my own, but I don’t always make it back there.”

 

“Stark keeping you that busy?” she asks.

 

“Some days,” Bruce admits. “I enjoy the work, and the company. I thought I’d come give you fair warning.”

 

Natasha stiffens. “Stark?”

 

“Tony’s not terribly happy with the release of a bunch of Stark Industries’ proprietary information, or that Hydra apparently planned on killing us in the first wave,” Bruce replies. “Or about the fact that Coulson is alive and no one knew, or that apparently Hydra had his parents killed… Take your pick.”

 

Natasha had actually known about Coulson, but she decides that she probably shouldn’t admit as much. “So, just generally pissed off at the world.”

 

“ _You_ were one of the people who shared that information with the world, and he’s already given Steve a hard time about it, and Fury’s not here to suffer his wrath,” Bruce points out.

 

Natasha shrugs. “I can handle Stark.”

 

Bruce frowns, and she realizes that he’s a little bit angry, and she feels a frisson of fear. Not like she had in Kolkata, or on the helicarrier, but she recognizes that his anger is colder, and he’s in perfect control. Somehow, she finds that more worrisome.

 

“I’m not asking you to _handle_ him, Agent Romanoff,” Bruce snaps. “I understand that you had to act quickly, but your decision put a lot of people at risk, including Barton.”

 

Natasha hesitates. “Do you know where he is?”

 

“He went off to find Coulson,” Bruce replies. “After we pulled him out of a sticky situation in Lviv. Tony’s been trying to pull other SHIELD agents out of danger, at least the ones we’re aware of, and can verify aren’t Hydra.”

 

Natasha sighs. “I am sorry for that, but Bruce, there wasn’t another choice at the time. We all got burned.”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “You came here because you wanted something, and so did Steve. At least with Clint, it felt like we were actually on the same team. Just—don’t use him, okay? He’ll let you, because he’s generous to a fault, and he’s taking this Avengers thing seriously.”

 

“And you?” Natasha asks. “Are you taking it seriously?”

 

Bruce gives her a long, even look, and Natasha is the first one to look away. “I’m here,” Bruce replies. “For whatever Tony needs. He was there for me, so yeah, I’m in this.”

 

“I thought you said we were a time bomb,” Natasha replies quietly.

 

“Sometimes you need a bomb,” Bruce replies. “New York taught me that.”

 

Natasha nods. “I’ll think about what you said.”

 

“That’s all I ask,” Bruce replies. “I should get going. I have a meeting. I don’t really know when Tony will show up, so make yourself comfortable.”

 

If Natasha had given any thought at all to Bruce being there, she probably would have assumed that he’d serve as a buffer, rather than the opposite. She feels a little defensive, a little off-balance, and that’s not how she’d wanted to approach her meeting with Tony.

 

She waits, mostly patiently, because Bruce had been right about that much at least. Natasha had come here to ask for something she needed, and while she hadn’t planned on using manipulation or deception to get it, she was taking advantage.

 

Natasha had planned on using Tony, without giving any thought to him, or to the team, and maybe she should have.

 

When Tony finally swans in after she’s been waiting for over an hour, he says, “I’d apologize, but I’m not actually sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” she says. “I know I didn’t have an appointment.”

 

Tony goes over to the bar to pour himself a drink. “Let me guess, you want something from me.”

 

“I need something from you,” she corrects him, going for honesty. “And I’m sorry that we couldn’t give you a heads up before we revealed all your secrets.”

 

Tony shrugs his shoulders irritably. “Thanks for that.”

 

“I didn’t have anybody else I could go to,” Natasha admits.

 

Tony scrubs a hand over his face. “Fine. Okay, I’m going to give you the same spiel I gave Steve. Something earth shattering happens, you give me a call. I’ll set you up with a way to press a button and send an alert. Number two, if I’m going to be bankrolling the Avengers, we don’t answer to a government agency. We answer to each other. I don’t care if you take side jobs, but that’s the bottom line.”

 

Natasha realizes that she’s getting off lightly, and she wonders if Tony knows that Bruce had talked to her first. “I understand.”

 

Tony nods shortly. “All right then. Tell me what you need.”

 

“More masks like the one I used to impersonate Hawley,” Natasha says. “I know that was your design.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Very doable. Go on.”

 

As Natasha outlines the rest of her needs, and Tony nods along, she begins to see what Bruce had meant. Tony is serious about the team, and she’s honestly a little surprised. “Why are you doing this?” she finally asks.

 

Tony smiles. “Partly because I can, and partly because I know what we’re capable of. Fury wasn’t wrong, you know. Sooner or later, there’ll be another threat that requires all of us to suit up. I want to make sure we can.”

 

“That’s very forward thinking,” Natasha replies.

 

“I’m a futurist,” Tony says simply.

 

“Are we good?” Natasha asks.

 

Tony nods. “We’re good. Mostly because Jarvis said that Bruce already read you the riot act.”

 

She smiles. “He’s very good at it.”

 

“Pepper’s pointed him at some recalcitrant board members who were quibbling about certain safety features,” Tony says with a grin. “Bruce is very passionate about safety.”

 

 _He would be_ , Natasha thinks. “Also, about protecting you.”

 

“Doesn’t hurt to have a friend in your corner,” Tony admits. “Remember that.”

 

She takes the rebuke with good grace. “Thank you, Tony.”

 

He shrugs. “If you’re going to be staying in the city long, you should have dinner with Pepper. I’m sure she’d like to see you. And if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

 

She leaves then, feeling rather thoughtful, but better than she had since they’d taken down SHIELD.

 

It seems, almost in spite of themselves, the Avengers are still a team—and Tony Stark, against all odds, is the linchpin.


	4. Bruce Banner

Bruce thinks he’s probably less affected by the end of SHIELD than anybody else. He had, in fact, been amused, and just a little flattered that Hydra had put him on the hit list—amused, because really, Hydra should have known better than to think that even one of their death ships would be capable of killing the Other Guy. Flattered, because he hasn’t been considered one of the good guys for all that long, and he’s not sure he’s really cut out to take down a bunch of covert Nazis.

 

Tony, of course, had a slightly different view of things. He hadn’t minded being a target so much; he had, in fact, assumed that he _would_ be targeted. He’d been angry that Bruce had been on the list, though.

 

“You do know that they wouldn’t have been able to kill me, right?” Bruce had asked when the news came through.

 

“That’s not the point,” Tony had replied angrily. “I mean, fine, come after me, that’s nothing new, but I get pissed off when they threaten my friend.”

 

Considering that Bruce had only recently admitted that they _were_ friends, he finds that kind of sweet.

 

Really, if Bruce had heard about the fall of SHIELD two years ago, he would have probably felt some relief that there was one less government agency to chase him. Even now, he figures that SHIELD won’t be able to stick him in a cage any time soon.

 

He hadn’t really factored in the impact on Tony, and God help him, but Bruce actually gives a damn in a way that feels more personal than anybody else since Betty.

 

And, somewhat to Bruce’s surprise, Tony is invested in both SHIELD and the Avengers Initiative, just like he’s invested in scrubbing the information he can from the internet that’s deemed too dangerous, protecting his patents, rescuing stranded SHIELD agents, and that’s in addition to all his other work.

 

Bruce doesn’t have a lot of feelings about SHIELD, or about the Avengers Initiative, not like Tony does, but he’s committed to _Tony_ and their friendship. So, Bruce is mostly just along for the ride, trying to provide whatever assistance he can, and run interference when necessary.

 

Barton calling them doesn’t bother Bruce, and he’d actually had some fun with the rescue. Steve showing up with his request hadn’t sat quite as easily. By the time Natasha showed up on their doorstep, Bruce started getting irritated.

 

Because the thing is, Tony isn’t sleeping, he’s not really eating, and Bruce is getting _really tired_ of watching him self-destruct.

 

Pepper has been trying to get Tony to take care of himself, but without much luck. Before she leaves for her business trip, she pulls Bruce aside. “I’m sorry to ask this of you, but can you look after Tony while I’m gone? This thing with Hydra has really thrown him for a loop.”

 

“You don’t even have to ask,” Bruce assures her. “I know he’s been having a rough time of it.”

 

Pepper pulls him into a hug that feels impulsive. “Thank you. I’m glad Tony convinced you to stay.”

 

Bruce feels himself blush. “Thanks. You know, when Iron Man keeps showing up and asking for your help on a project, it gets hard to turn him down.”

 

Pepper smiles. “Don’t I know it.” Her expression is serious when she says, “Blanket permission to tie him up and _make_ him take a break if that’s what it comes to.”

 

“You probably shouldn’t tempt me,” Bruce admits.

 

Pepper smiles. “We’ve all been tempted a time or two.”

 

“Only twice?”

 

“That would be telling,” she replies. “Take care of yourself, too. Don’t let Tony run you too ragged.”

 

“Who would take care of Tony if I did?” Bruce asks, although he doesn’t really mean it. Or maybe he does, but in a different way. After all, he can crash once Pepper gets back into town.

 

Pepper gives him a look that suggests she knows what he’s thinking. “I’ll see you both in a week.”

 

That first day Pepper is gone, Tony finishes digging up everything he can find on the Winter Soldier, and they present it to Steve and Sam. With the information from Natasha, as well as the knowledge that Barnes had been spotted in D.C. at the Captain America exhibit, they’ve figured out that he seems to be visiting meaningful locations.

 

Steve’s face lights up at that news, and Bruce gets it. If anybody might know where Barnes is headed next, it’s Steve.

 

“Keep us in the loop,” Tony orders. “And Wilson, I expect you back here in two weeks to pick up your new wings.”

 

Wilson beams. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Stark.”

 

“I told you, call me Tony,” he replies, and he has a genuine smile on his face, one of the first that Bruce has seen since this whole mess started.

 

Bruce doesn’t blame him. Wilson’s enthusiasm is infectious.

 

“Seriously, thank you,” Steve says, sincerity evident in every syllable. “This means a lot, Tony.”

 

Tony waves off the gratitude. “Get out of here, and go find your pal. And if at first you don’t succeed, yadda, yadda.”

 

Steve looks a little surprised at the advice, but he nods. “Same goes for you, you know. If you need anything.”

 

Tony’s smile is a little crooked. “Sure. Off you go.”

 

“You thinking we’re going to add the Falcon to the team roster?” Bruce asks lightly after they’ve gone.

 

“Think he’d make a good addition?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce realizes that he’s being asked for his opinion, and that Tony means it. “I do,” he replies. “He’s—he’s stable.”

 

“Unlike the rest of us,” Tony supplies with a smirk.

 

Bruce hitches a shoulder. “Maybe. In a way, he reminds me of you.”

 

Tony frowns. “Me? Why?”

 

“He takes joy in what he does,” Bruce explains awkwardly. “He has fun with it. Barton does too, at least to a certain extent, and maybe Steve and Natasha do as well, but it’s different. It’s a job for them. Wilson could have stayed at the VA as a counselor, but he went back in the field because he loves it.”

 

Tony’s giving him a strange look now. “And what about you? Why are you here, Dr. Banner?”

 

Bruce feels oddly exposed. “Because you asked me to come—nicely, and several times, and it’s—it’s good here.”

 

“And when we ask you to suit up again?”

 

“Maybe that will be good, too,” Bruce admits. “I don’t know.”

 

Tony yawns. “Well, since that went so well, I think I’m going to head to bed if you don’t mind.”

 

“Of course not,” Bruce says, grateful that he doesn’t have to cajole Tony into sleeping.

 

But the next morning, Tony’s already in the lab and wired on coffee by the time Bruce gets there. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Bruce would be surprised if he’d slept more than a couple of hours.

 

He sighs, reminds himself that he can always follow Pepper’s suggestion, and starts work.

 

Tony being Tony, he makes a few upgrades on the masks that Natasha had requested, as well as some modifications on her Widow’s Bite that should make her happy. Bruce doesn’t say anything about his obviously sleepless state.

 

Bruce makes sure he eats at least a couple of meals, ordering in sandwiches for lunch and Thai for dinner. That night, when Tony says he’s heading to bed, Bruce just replies, “Sleep well,” and stays right where he is.

 

There’s a couch in the lab if he decides to catch a few hours of sleep, and he’ll know if Tony turns back up in a couple of hours, which is what Bruce suspects he’d done the night before.

 

Bruce gets about four hours before Tony returns, well before dawn, and Bruce doesn’t say anything then either. He goes back to his room to shower and change—he hasn’t actually been to his apartment at all this week, because he hasn’t had time—and rejoins Tony in the lab. They give Natasha her new toys, get a message from Barton that all is well and he’s going to be sticking with Coulson for a while longer, and then they go back to work on sifting through information.

 

Well, Tony goes back to work on that. Bruce has his own projects, although he sticks around to keep an eye on Tony. He has a late afternoon meeting with some of his scientists—and Bruce still can’t believe that Pepper and Tony had put him in charge of _anything_ , let alone an entire division for special projects—and Tony’s still in the lab when he returns.

 

Bruce sighs. He’s really not cut out for this sort of thing. It’s been too long since he’s had to worry about anyone other than himself, and yet—and yet it’s nice having friends and a job that pays well and a place to sleep every night.

 

Also, he really does care about Tony, and he’s worried.

 

“Tony,” he says quietly when it’s 8 pm and Tony’s still staring at the screen. “You need to stop.”

 

“I’m fine,” Tony replies impatiently.

 

“You’re not fine,” Bruce insists. “Look, Hydra is out there, we know that. There are people working on it. But you’ve been staring at the data for _weeks_ now. You need to take a break.”

 

He can see Tony’s throat working as he swallows. “There are people’s lives on the line.”

 

“And you can’t save them all,” Bruce says bluntly. In this case, his time providing limited medical attention to people in the poorest areas of the world gives him a little perspective. “ _You can’t save them all_. And if the Avengers got called up right now, you’d be too short on sleep to do us any good.”

 

Tony shoots him a wry look. “I’ll have you know I took on the Mandarin and AIM with far less.”

 

“Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Bruce replies. “What’s going on?”

 

Tony deflects, as he usually does. “I thought you said you weren’t that kind of doctor.”

 

Bruce silently asks himself why he even tries, and then remembers that while Tony might be kind of an asshole at times, so is he. “I’m asking as your friend,” he says patiently. “I don’t have so many that I care to lose one.” He pauses. “And neither do you.”

 

Tony’s glare is half-hearted at best. “Yes, thank you so much for that.”

 

“So?” Bruce presses.

 

Tony shakes his head. “I haven’t been sleeping again.”

 

“I guessed that much,” Bruce says. “And?”

 

“The panic attacks are back,” he admits in a low voice. “Just a couple of them, but…I thought I was done with them, you know?”

 

Bruce thinks about all the information they’ve sifted through, the baggage that Tony carries, especially finding out that his parents’ deaths hadn’t been an accident. He thinks about Tony desperately trying to weed out the innocent SHIELD agents who had been stranded from the Hydra agents who might like the chance to get close enough to Iron Man to take him out.

 

“It’s been a rough few weeks,” Bruce offers. “It’s probably just a minor setback.”

 

Tony scrubs his hands over his face. “You’re probably right. Hey, you should get some sleep, even if I can’t.”

 

Bruce gives him a long look. “That’s not how this is going to go down.”

 

Tony snorts. “Oh? Do tell, _doctor_.”

 

“Since I promised Pepper I would look after you, we’re going to get something to eat, and then we’re going back to your bedroom, where we’re both going to stretch out on the bed and watch something mindless.”

 

Tony smirks, although Bruce can tell that his heart isn’t in it. “Flattering, but as much as I like you, I have a girlfriend.”

 

If Bruce were the praying sort, he’d probably pray for patience right about now. “And your girlfriend gave me permission to tie you up if that’s what it takes,” Bruce says. He puts his hands on Tony’s shoulders. “You’re going to start missing things if you keep on like this, and that won’t help anyone.”

 

Tony looks away. “Bruce…”

 

“You sleep better when there’s someone else in the bed, right?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony hesitates, and finally nods.

 

“So, I’ll be there, as a _friend_ , and you can sleep. I’ll wake you up if you start to have a nightmare,” Bruce offers. “It’s a win-win for everybody. Jarvis, initiate lock-down procedures.”

 

“Happy to, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis replies.

 

Tony splutters. “You _traitor_!”

 

Bruce isn’t sure whether that’s meant for him or Jarvis. “You can thank me after you’ve realized that I’m totally right about this. By the way, lock-down ends in 12 hours. I’m kind of hoping you’ll sleep a good part of that time, but at least you’ll be resting, even if you can’t.”

 

“You are evil,” Tony accuses, as Bruce steers him out of the lab, and the door locks behind them. “I hired an evil genius.”

 

“You were the one who wanted me to work for you,” Bruce points out ruthlessly. “For the record, any phone calls will be routed to my phone unless we run into a true emergency that actually requires Iron Man and no one else.”

 

“ _Evil_ ,” Tony repeats.

 

Bruce smirks. “That’s what happens when your AI ends up liking me and Pepper more than you.”

 

Tony grumbles about them being in collusion, but there’s no heat there. He sounds weary, weary to the bone, and he lets Bruce heat up the leftover takeout from the night before, and then usher him back to the bedroom.

 

Once there, Bruce toes off his shoes and pulls off his socks and belt, and tosses his suit jacket over a chair.

 

“You could get more comfortable than that, you know,” Tony says.

 

Bruce has no intention of sleeping. In fact, he’s pretty sure he _can’t_ sleep in the same bed with someone else. He’s grown too used to his solitude, and too worried that he’ll have a nightmare and disturb the other person.

 

Besides, this arrangement isn’t for his benefit, but for Tony’s.

 

“I’m fine,” Bruce says. “I’ve slept in far more uncomfortable situations.”

 

He snags the remote, because he knows what Tony would pick, and Bruce wants something soothing, that will put Tony right to sleep.

 

Tony changes into sweatpants and a tank top, and actually does stretch out next to Bruce, although he doesn’t get under the covers. “I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”

 

“You could be tied up,” Bruce replies. “Pepper said she’d allow it.”

 

“Pepper is also evil,” Tony says.

 

“Is that why you hired her to run your company?” Bruce asks, landing on a cooking channel.

 

Tony has no interest in cooking, other than the finished product, but Bruce finds the programs interesting.

 

“No, I hired her because I was dying, and I thought she’d do a better job than me,” Tony admits. “Which is why I asked you to run the special projects division.”

 

“You’re just as much of a humanitarian as I am,” Bruce says.

 

Tony yawns. “Maybe, but you’re still better at it. What the hell are we watching?”

 

“It’s a _Chopped_ marathon,” Bruce replies.

 

“Yes, but why are we watching the cooking channel?” Tony asks plaintively, although the last word is punctuated by another yawn.

 

“Because I like it, and I have the remote, and you’re in lock-down because you can’t sleep,” Bruce replies. “Does that cover all the bases?”

 

“Evil,” Tony mutters again, but he’s half-gone, and Bruce smiles as his breathing evens out.

 

When he’s sure Tony’s asleep, Bruce turns off the TV and tips his head back. He doesn’t expect to sleep, but that’s fine. He’ll find a way to catch a nap the following day. The important thing is that Tony’s asleep.

 

Because maybe Tony has taken it on himself to make sure that the Avengers are still a team, but Bruce will make sure that Tony is functional.

 

It’s the least he can do.


	5. Phil Coulson

Barton eventually leaves the Playground on an assignment from Phil, to investigate a suspected Hydra base. It’s the best of both possible worlds, in a sense. Phil had suggested the assignment, and Clint had run it through Stark first, but he’d gone as an Avenger.

 

Phil knows he’s going to have to deal with Stark and the others sooner or later, but he’s really hoping to put it off until later. He has no doubt that Stark will be difficult.

 

Stark always is.

 

And now, of course, Phil has to do without Barton, and maybe that’s for the best, since Phil can’t afford to rely on him being around. If Phil’s being honest, he misses having someone outside the chain of command that he can talk to, and in this case, May doesn’t really count.

 

Phil trusts May, but he still isn’t entirely certain where her loyalties lie, or what she’ll decide to do if Phil goes off the deep end. He figures it’s even odds as to whether she’ll try to pull him back from the brink or put a bullet in him.

 

Then again, given his strange, midnight wanderings, and having no idea what the long-term effects of being injected with an alien substance will be, Phil isn’t sure what he’d prefer. It’s probably better for May to take him out, rather than risk Phil going over to the dark side.

 

Phil thinks that it’s entirely possible he’s been spending too much time with Skye lately.

 

And then his phone rings, the one no one has the number to other than his team, Fury, and Barton, and he picks up with some trepidation. “Coulson.”

 

“I heard you were director now.”

 

Phil recognizes Natasha’s voice right off. “Agent Romanoff.”

 

“I think you can call me Natasha,” she replies. “I’m no longer an agent of SHIELD.”

 

Phil hesitates and then says, “Natasha. How did you get this number?”

 

“Clint,” she explains briefly. “After he left, he thought you might need some extra help.”

 

“Maybe,” Phil replies, unable to confirm more than that. “We’re getting things sorted around here.”

 

Natasha snorts. “What would you have me do?”

 

“You aren’t an agent any longer,” Phil objects. “I can’t give you an assignment.”

 

“I’m not asking for an assignment,” Natasha replies. “I’m asking if you have a job for an Avenger, and if you’d be okay with seeing me.”

 

There’s a note of uncertainty in Natasha’s voice that he’s not used to hearing there. “Of course you can come,” he says. “But you’ll have to go through Koenig’s tests.”

 

“So I’ve heard,” Natasha replies. “I don’t mind.”

 

Phil figures if she’s game for putting up with Koenig’s tests, who is he to refuse her? “Certainly, then, if you’re okay with that.”

 

“I’ll be there in a few days,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response.

 

Phil isn’t quite sure what brought this on; Natasha isn’t one for making social calls, and although she’d been one of the few people who had known he was alive, they hadn’t spoken since his death.

 

“Boss?” May says, sticking her head into his office. “You okay?”

 

Phil shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I be? How’s the search going?”

 

May sits in the chair across from his desk. “We’re still sorting through the files. Are you sure this is the route you want to go?”

 

“There were good people in SHIELD,” Phil replies. “I’d like to know they’re taken care of, even if we can’t rehire people right now.”

 

They barely have the budget to keep the Playground up and running, and to pay their salaries. Congress is understandably hesitant to give SHIELD—or what’s left of it—any money right now. Phil has enough money to keep the lights on, and keep the people he has, and fuel the Bus, but that’s about it.

 

Phil has no idea how to go about getting additional funding. He somehow has to prove that SHIELD is still necessary, that it’s worth rebuilding, and that they’re clean of any Hydra taint. It’s a difficult proposition, given that SHIELD is supposed to be completely disbanded.

 

“We need money,” May says bluntly. “Fury’s slush funds aren’t going to keep us going forever.”

 

“And how, exactly, are we supposed to get funding?” Phil asks sourly. “We aren’t supposed to exist.”

 

It’s possible that Phil is feeling a little annoyed with Fury’s decision to dump all this in his lap. At first, it had been something of a rush, to know that Fury trusted him that much. Now, it’s just a massive headache, and Phil is giving serious consideration to running away, maybe finding another job.

 

He _could_ be a bodyguard, or some kind of security. He has the face for it and the skills. He doesn’t have to be director of SHIELD.

 

May gives him a singularly unimpressed look, like she knows he’s wallowing, and is too polite to mention it. He stares back, unwilling to give anything away.

 

“There’s someone who might be able to give us money,” May suggests.

 

Phil grimaces. “He already employed Hill.”

 

“My point stands,” May replies. “And he’s apparently bankrolling the Avengers now. It’s just for a little while.”

 

Phil snorts. “Have you ever read up on the history of SHIELD, Melinda? Do you know how long it took to build the agency? Howard Stark’s money and power paved the way, and Peggy Carter spearheaded the agency. And _that_ was in the post-war boom, when there was money to spare. We’re in a recession.”

 

She raises an eyebrow, and Phil realizes that he’s played right into her hands. “Oh, fuck.”

 

“We should probably at least have an agency to save before we approach Stark,” she offers, sounding almost apologetic. “Which is why I think we ought to go after the cadets. Find the right ones, and they’ll be willing to work for room, board and the opportunity to make a difference.”

 

Phil sighs and rubs his eyes. “We need more people.”

 

“We really do,” she agrees. “Fitz isn’t going to be up for field work any time soon.”

 

He winces. “Damn it all to hell.”

 

Fitz had been in a coma for a month, and he’d suffered some damage. Thankfully, his mind is still as sharp as ever, but his ability to communicate has been hampered, and he still requires the use of a walker to get around. The doctor has high hopes for his recovery, but can’t say how much improvement they’ll see.

 

Phil thinks about Ward, who had been handpicked by Garrett and brainwashed to follow his lead. If someone else had gotten to Ward first, things might have turned out very differently for him.

 

He can’t excuse Ward’s actions, but he can, on some level, understand what kind of man Ward is. He’s a man who needs a leader, who is shaped by a leader. There’s a part of Phil that identifies with Ward in that sense. He doesn’t know what he might have done if Fury hadn’t taken an interest in him early on.

 

Then again, Phil’s pretty damn certain that he wouldn’t have joined Hydra, no matter what the pressure might have been.

 

“I know Natasha has talked to Stark, and I’ll talk to her about it,” Phil promises. “Right now, focus on the young ones, and let me know if there are agents in the clear who might want to join the cause.”

 

He reviews the budget reports and knows that they’ll be able to keep the lights on for a couple of years, even if they hire one more team, although they won’t be able to do much more than that.

 

“Hey, A.C.,” Skye says, entering his office with only a cursory knock and plopping down in the chair across from his desk. “Why the long face?”

 

Phil summons up a smile. “Budgets.”

 

Skye pulls a face. “Ugh.”

 

“Pretty much,” he agrees.

 

“I’m guessing it’s all bad news,” she says. When he raises his eyebrows, she offers, “Hey, I was living in my van, remember? I know all about having a shortage of funds.”

 

He sighs. “Fury had some slush funds, so we’ll be able to keep the lights on, but May suggested I approach Tony Stark for money.”

 

“He does have a lot of it,” Skye says.

 

“And he’s probably not my biggest fan at the moment,” Phil says. “Or SHIELD’s.”

 

Skye shrugs. “There are other ways of getting money, although they’re not entirely legal.”

 

Phil is ready to shut her down without giving her the chance to explain, but he’s come to trust her over this last year, and he doubts she’s talking about robbing a bank. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“Hydra still has money,” Skye points out. “Give me some time, and I might be able to figure out how to liberate some of it.”

 

Phil gives that some thought to her suggestion. Stealing money from Hydra would serve a dual purpose—striking a blow at Hydra, and funding SHIELD in its efforts to rebuild. “Can you do it without being caught?”

 

Skye smirks. “Of course.”

 

“Be careful,” he orders. “And run it by me before you do anything, but it’s a viable alternative.”

 

There’s something about Skye’s proposal that tickles Phil’s sense of justice. Hydra had taken SHIELD down; if he could return the favor, even in a small way, he’ll do it.

 

Skye smiles brightly. “You got it, boss.”

 

Phil decides that nothing more can be done with the budget at this point, and so he refocuses on the part of his job that he actually enjoys. Triplett is going over his equipment and making sure everything is in order. He offers a distracted hello, and Phil returns it but leaves him alone.

 

May is working out, and Phil knows better than to interrupt, so he heads to the infirmary where Fitz still is. He’s not surprised to find Simmons next to his bed.

 

“How are you doing, Leo?” Phil asks, pitching his voice low.

 

Fitz’s smile is lopsided. “I’m all right, sir.”

 

His words are a little slurred, a little indistinct, but he’s made considerable improvement since he’d first come out of the coma.

 

“And doing better every day!” Simmons says brightly. “He’ll be taking the world by storm in no time, Director.”

 

Phil isn’t used to people calling him that, and while it had a nice ring at first, Phil is beginning to suspect that the problems are going to outweigh any perks.

 

Actually, Phil really isn’t seeing a lot of perks at the moment.

 

“I’m sure,” he says. “I may have to pay a visit to Mr. Stark soon. Would you be interested in coming with me?”

 

“Tony Stark?” Simmons asks, with barely concealed excitement. “It would be an honor.”

 

“Maybe it should wait,” Fitz slurs.

 

Phil suspects that Leo is worried about how Tony is going to respond to his infirmity. “I need you both there,” he says quietly, “but it’s a request, not an order.”

 

Simmons nudges Fitz gently. “You know how much you’ve wanted to meet Mr. Stark. This is a perfect opportunity.”

 

“I’m not much use, am I?” Fitz asks glumly.

 

“Your mind is still sharp,” Phil reminds him gently. “We need your mind, Leo.”

 

His expression wavers. “You don’t have that many field agents.”

 

Phil reaches out and grabs his forearm. “No, we don’t, but we need your mind and your _heart_. This team cannot function without you.”

 

Simmons looks at him gratefully, and Fitz seems to sit up a little straighter. “If you insist.”

 

“I’m afraid I have to,” Phil replies, realizing that Fitz might hide away otherwise. “Agent Romanoff should be here in a couple of days. Jemma, how are your self-defense lessons going?”

 

Jemma winces. “Ah, about that…”

 

“You are capable of learning self-defense,” Phil says sternly. “As Leo will be when he recovers.”

 

Fitz smiles. “And if I don’t recover, I could always carry one of those canes with a sword in it. I’ve always wanted one of those.”

 

Simmons looks a little panicked, but Phil smiles. “I think that’s an excellent idea, if it comes to that.”

 

“I’ll try,” Simmons promises.

 

“Do more than try—succeed,” Phil replies. “I have every faith in you.”

 

She blushes. “Thank you, sir.”

 

Phil pats Fitz on the shoulder. “Keep working at it, Leo. You’re going to be fine.”

 

Even if Fitz is never back to 100%, Phil has every intention of keeping him around. His mind is still sound, and he’s already committed to staying with SHIELD as long as there’s a place for him.

 

Since Phil has every intention of rebuilding SHIELD with people like Fitz, who have the heart and the drive, he’ll do everything in his power to ensure that Fitz has a place.

 

When he returns to his quarters, he pauses when he sees May sitting on his bed. “You know, most people would find that creepy.”

 

“You’re not most people,” May points out. “Also, you’ve been wandering after hours.”

 

Phil blows out a breath and sits down in the comfortable chair he’d requisitioned so he could read in his quarters. “How did you know?”

 

“I agreed with Fury’s decision, you know,” May says quietly. “You’re the best choice to lead SHIELD.”

 

“But?”

 

“The reason that Fury had me watching you still stands,” she points out, her voice without inflection.

 

Phil rubs his eyes. “I don’t know what it means. And honestly, I don’t know what I’ve been etching into the walls means. Are you keeping an eye on Skye, too?”

 

May nods. “No sign yet.”

 

Somehow, that doesn’t make Phil feel much better. “So, two humans have been exposed, and then there’s Skye.”

 

May inclines her head, and doesn’t say what they’re probably both thinking. No one knows exactly what Skye is, or where she’s come from, other than the fact that SHIELD agents had been killed protecting her.

 

“Are you going to talk to her about this?” May asks.

 

Phil presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

“I think you should.”

 

It’s not the advice he would have expected. “Why?”

 

“Because if this is going to work, we need to not have secrets from each other,” May replies. “You told Skye the truth for that reason, and that reason hasn’t changed.”

 

“Fair point,” Phil replies. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

 

“In the meantime, you may want to consult with an expert,” May suggests.

 

Phil groans out loud. “Who?”

 

“Stark and Banner,” May replies. “Present it as a problem that only they can solve.”

 

Phil raises his eyebrows. “Do you think that’s going to work?”

 

“It couldn’t hurt,” May points out. “And revealing something like this might go a long way towards building trust with the Avengers.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” Phil promises. “I assume that you’ll be keeping an eye on the footage from the base.”

 

“Of course,” May says. “It might not feel like it, Phil, but I’m on your side.”

 

Phil looks her in the eye and says, “If I had any doubt about that, you wouldn’t be here.”

 

She nods, and he’s grateful that he can rely on May for this much. Their friendship has taken a few hits recently, but they’re beginning to rebuild the easy camaraderie they’d once had.

 

He doesn’t sleep well that night, although he doesn’t go scratching mysterious figures on the wall again. He thinks about what May had said about building trust with Stark and the rest of the Avengers, and he thinks she’s probably right about that.

 

The pared down SHIELD will have a better shot at doing some good in the world if it forges a close relationship with them. Phil wouldn’t dare seek to control them, for a host of reasons, but they can be allies. He _hopes_ they can be allies.

 

Natasha has seen Stark more recently, and maybe she’ll have a better feel for how things are going with the rest.

 

He does what he can the next couple of days. There are contacts with other agencies to exploit, and people who owe him favors.

 

Phil thinks it’s probably time to pull off the gloves and play a little dirty, including stealing from Hydra if need be, although he plans to run the idea past Barton and Romanoff to see what they have to say about it.

 

When he gets a phone call from Barton, Phil has a moment of panic, because he can’t provide extraction right now, and then he remembers that’s not his job anymore.

 

“Coulson.”

 

“I thought I’d give you an update,” Barton says. “Because this Hydra base is basically a fucking nightmare, FYI.”

 

“Are you okay?” Phil asks.

 

Barton snorts. “Sure, I’m fine. The place was deserted when I got here, but I don’t know, Coulson. They scrubbed the data, and pulled most of the equipment, but there are some pretty scary looking chairs to strap people down in, and some honest-to-God cages. _People-sized_ cages.”

 

Phil is suddenly not feeling real bad about stealing money from them. “Skye wants to drain their bank accounts.”

 

“I knew I liked her,” is Barton’s response. “Look, I’m going to grab what I can and get it back to Stark. It’s possible that he’ll be able to do something with what I found.”

 

Phil has to acknowledge the truth of that statement, although he thinks that Fitz, Simmons and Skye could probably do just as much good. Still, Phil doesn’t have so many resources on hand that he can turn down the help. “Let me know what they find.”

 

“You may want to ask them yourself,” Barton replies. “No offense, Phil, but I’m not going to be your go-between with Stark, and I think Natasha and the others would say the same. Like it or not, Stark’s holding the purse strings, and he’s kind of in charge of the Avengers. You’re going to have to deal with him sooner or later.”

 

“Probably sooner,” Phil admits. “I’m already making plans.”

 

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around,” Barton replies, and hangs up.

 

Phil rubs his eyes and lets out a breath. Natasha should arrive the next day, and he knows he’ll be able to get a read on Stark from her.

 

She arrives right on time and passes Koenig’s tests with flying colors. Phil is a little surprised at how easily she’s acquiesced, given that she’d been one of those to expose Hydra, and she hates jumping through needless hoops.

 

Then again, given the extent to which SHIELD had been infiltrated, it’s possible that she believes the tests are a good policy.

 

“Talk to me,” Phil says when she’s seated across from him.

 

A smile curves her lips. “About what?”

 

“We need money,” Phil says bluntly. “May wants me to talk to Stark.”

 

Natasha’s already shaking her head. “Don’t do that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because you’ll have to go through Bruce to get to him, and Stark isn’t exactly your biggest fan right now,” Natasha replies.

 

Phil frowns. “What do you mean I have to go through Dr. Banner?”

 

Natasha shrugs. “Clint, Steve, and I already approached Stark for help—information, supplies, funding. Stark agreed to continue funding the Avengers within certain parameters. Bruce took exception to what he saw as us using him.”

 

“So, what you’re saying is that I should take the other funding option,” Phil replies.

 

“What option is that?” she asks.

 

Phil smiles. “Skye wants to empty Hydra’s bank accounts.”

 

Natasha smirks. “Well, there’s a poetic justice for you.”

 

“Then you approve?”

 

“I always approve of finding ways to use someone’s weapons against them,” Natasha replies. She leans back in her chair. “How are you, Phil?”

 

“Tired,” he admits. “I’m beginning to think that I shouldn’t have taken the promotion.”

 

Natasha smiles. “You were the right man for the job, you know.”

 

“I was the only man for the job,” Phil replies. “I think I might have been the only person stupid enough to take it.”

 

“You don’t believe that,” Natasha insists.

 

Phil shakes his head. “Some days I do.”


	6. Sam Wilson

Sam looks around the room and feels a deep sense of pity. The abandoned building is unheated, there are holes in the floor, and the windows are mostly broken. There’s a filthy mattress in one corner and a pile of clothes next to it. He can see a few other personal effects, which means that Stark’s intel may have finally got them out ahead of Barnes.

 

Steve’s expression is deeply pained. “This is where he’s staying?” he murmurs.

 

“Looks like,” Sam says sympathetically.

 

Steve makes a distressed noise but doesn’t say anything else, going over to one of the broken windows and looking out onto the street.

 

Sam’s just as happy to be under cover in this neighborhood. They’d both stuck out like a couple of sore thumbs on the street, and he’d seen more than a few people packing. Steve might be stronger than most, and he might be able to take a lot of punishment and recover fairly quickly, but he’s still vulnerable to a bullet.

 

It makes Sam wonder how Barnes is getting along here.

 

“You think he’ll come back with us?” Sam asks quietly.

 

Steve hesitates, still staring out the window. “I don’t know. I hope so.” He turns to look at Sam. “Look, I know we’re supposed to pick up your new wings tonight, but if I can’t go—”

 

Sam shrugs. “I know where Stark Tower is.”

 

He’d liked Stark, and Banner, and Ms. Potts, even more than he’d expected. Stark’s reputation for being an arrogant asshole is well deserved, but there’s a lot more to him than that. There’s also a deep-seated generosity, and an inclination to treat everyone just the same.

 

Sam understands why Steve doesn’t get along with him very well. Their personalities inevitably clash, with Stark’s smirking jocularity and Steve’s intense devotion to duty. He suspects they might get along better when they’re not in the middle of a crisis, but Sam’s pretty sure that they’re never together otherwise.

 

Although it’s possible that will change now that the Avengers aren’t part of SHIELD any more.

 

There are footsteps, and Steve goes completely still. Sam stays where he is. They’ve purposely not tried to block the door, or appear in any way to be aiming for capture.

 

Barnes freezes when he enters the room, but from the flicker of emotion that crosses his face, Sam suspects that he’d known someone had been in the building.

 

“We’re just here to talk,” Steve says quietly when the silence hangs for a very long minute.

 

Barnes angles his body so that he can drop what’s in his hands—looks like groceries of some sort, probably from the bodega he and Steve had passed on the way in—and run. “So, talk.”

 

His voice sounds rusty, and Sam wonders if the guy ever says much.

 

“I just—how are you?” Steve asks, and there’s that ache in his voice again.

 

Barnes glances around the room, his hair hanging in his face, and Sam thinks there might almost be a smile on his face. “I do all right.”

 

That’s all he says, and Sam snorts. He can’t help it. Clearly, Barnes has no intention of making this easy on Steve.

 

Barnes glances at Sam, and whatever openness had been in his expression disappears. Sam takes that as his cue. “I’ll just be outside.”

 

Sam steps outside, keeping his back to the building and watching the street. He gets a curious look from the cat living in the alley, but the few passersby don’t even seem to see him. He wonders if folks around here have just gotten into the habit of not looking too close, because it’s safer that way.

 

He checks his watch and figures he’s got at least an hour to wait for Steve before he absolutely has to leave for Stark Tower, and that’s when Steve emerges.

 

“So?” Sam asks.

 

Steve shakes his head. “He said he wasn’t ready.”

 

Sam doesn’t ask “ready for what?” because he figures that might be a question that only Barnes knows the answer to. “What do you want to do now?”

 

“I guess we can head to the Tower,” Steve replies, sounding glum.

 

“Hey,” Sam says quietly. “Stark’s intel was good. Maybe he just needs to get asked a few times so he knows you’re serious.”

 

“Maybe,” Steve agrees.

 

Sam feels a little sorry for Steve, but he’s more relieved than anything else that Barnes won’t be coming back with them.

 

The guy just creeps him out a little bit, even though he tries not to let on to that for Steve’s sake.

 

“You okay?” Sam asks.

 

Steve shrugs and doesn’t respond, so Sam leaves him alone. He thinks about what it would be like if Riley came back from the dead, but wasn’t himself, and wanted nothing to do with Sam, and that tells him everything he needs to know about Steve’s state of mind.

 

When they reach the Tower, the receptionist waves them up immediately. Sam still can’t quite believe that he’s welcome here, or that he’s about to get his wings back.

 

The elevator takes them straight up to the Penthouse. Stark’s already there playing with a hologram of the suit, and Bruce is curled up in a corner of the couch, reading.

 

“How did it turn out?” Stark asks.

 

Steve shrugs. “He was there.”

 

Banner looks up with a sympathetic expression. “He wasn’t ready?”

 

Steve shakes his head.

 

“Are you guys hungry?” Stark asks, neatly changing the subject. “You want something to drink?”

 

Steve doesn’t reply, so Sam says, “Yes, to both.”

 

Banner grabs a couple of beers, and Sam notices that they’re a couple of local microbrews that they’d had and liked the last time they’d been here. “Thai okay, or do you want something else?”

 

“Is that something you’ve crossed off your list?” Sam asks Steve.

 

Steve smiles. “Yeah, but I haven’t tried everything yet.”

 

“I’ll put in an order,” Stark says. “Sam, how spicy do you like things?”

 

“Hot enough to burn my taste buds off,” Sam replies cheerfully. “But I’ll eat anything.”

 

Stark puts in a call for food, and Sam has no idea how they’re supposed to eat all of it, but Bruce says, “Leftovers come in handy around here.”

 

“After we eat, we can take a look at your wings,” Stark tells Sam. “I made a few modifications that I hope you’ll like.”

 

Sam doesn’t know why he wouldn’t, because it’s Stark tech. “I’m sure I will.”

 

Banner pulls up the design for Sam’s wings on the hologram. “It might not be a bad idea to go over some of the changes _before_ Sam puts them on.”

 

Stark grins. “Surprises are half the fun of life.”

 

“Maybe not when you’re jumping off the Tower,” Banner replies dryly.

 

Steve frowns. “Jumping off the Tower?”

 

“I’ll put on the suit first,” Stark replies. “Nothing will happen to your bro, Cap.”

 

Steve looks uncomfortable, but Sam grins. “Sounds great.”

 

“Maybe we should start a little closer to the ground,” Steve objects.

 

“Only way to fly is to start from a height,” Sam replies. “And it’s still not as high as jumping from an airplane—which I happen to know that you do all the time.”

 

Steve can’t really argue with that, and Sam knows he’s just worried.

 

“Trust my tech and me,” Stark says. “I don’t like it when Avengers end up a pancake on the sidewalk.”

 

Steve glances away. “Sorry.”

 

Stark waves off his apology. “Don’t worry about it.”

 

The changes to the suit are both major and minor. There are a few small repulsors built in now that will give him more control over his flight, as well as some changes to make it more aerodynamic and therefore more efficient.

 

“I tried not to make too many changes to the controls,” Stark says. “Your control is instinctual right now, and the foundation there was solid. But I did want to make it even more responsive, so watch out for that.”

 

They talk about the changes Stark had made, and Banner pulls Steve away, and they talk quietly in one corner of the room.

 

“Bruce will talk to him,” Stark says quietly when Sam glances over at them. “He knows a little bit about feeling like too much of a monster to accept an invitation.”

 

Sam blinks. “I never thought about it like that.”

 

Stark shrugs. “It’s understandable.”

 

That’s all he says before he goes back to Sam’s wings, and before the food comes, but Sam thinks he has a window on Stark that the rest of the world doesn’t often see—that of a guy who’s done a lot of damage, and is trying, somehow, to make up for it.

 

They’re eating when Stark says, “So, are you two staying in New York long?”

 

Steve shrugs. “I thought I might move back up here, actually. Bucky seems to be coming back here more often than anywhere else.” He glances at Sam. “Sam probably has to get back, though.”

 

“I got a transfer to a vet resource center up here,” Sam says nonchalantly. “It just came through the other day.”

 

Steve stares at him, clearly stunned. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Thought I might want to be a little closer to the guy who made me a new set of wings,” Sam replies, smirking at Stark. “Just in case.”

 

Stark grins. “Makes perfect sense. Also, there’s room in the Tower.”

 

Steve frowns. “Here?”

 

“Well, not _here_ here,” Stark replies. “But Bruce being around all the time gave me the idea.”

 

Steve glances at Banner. “I thought you said you had your own place.”

 

Banner lets out a longsuffering sigh. “I do, but Tony’s convinced me to move in here. He reinforced a floor.”

 

“Half of a floor,” Stark corrects him. “But I’ve already set aside room for the others. If something goes down, it will be that much easier to assemble.” He leans back in his chair. “And next time you see Barnes, you can tell him that. That arm of his will break down eventually, and when it does, he can come here to have it fixed, whether you’re here or not, Cap.”

 

Steve stares down at the floor. “Thanks. I’ll, uh, I’ll let him know.”

 

“He’s as much a victim of Hydra as anyone,” Banner says softly. “We want to help if we can.”

 

“I really appreciate that,” Steve says softly.

 

Stark claps his hands together. “Great. Let us know what you want to do. Bruce, if you want to grab Wilson’s wings, I’ll put on the armor.”

 

Sam’s wings are stashed behind the bar, and Bruce leads him and Steve out onto the roof. The sun hasn’t yet set, and the air is warm in spite of the stiff breeze. Sam straps on the suit and looks around, breathing in deep.

 

He’s got his wings back, and they’ve been upgraded by Iron Man himself. Sam wonders if this is a dream, and he pinches himself just to be sure.

 

But then Stark— _Iron Man_ —is hovering just off the ground, clearly showing off.

 

Sam finishes his preflight check, and with a gesture, his wings snap out, and then back in, and he pulls the flight goggles down over his eyes.

 

“Ready, Bird Man?” Stark taunts, zipping along the roof and hovering just over the edge, nothing but air under his feet.

 

“Oh, I was born ready.” Sam runs full tilt for the edge, launching himself into space with a whoop of joy.

 

His wings snap out and catch air, and Sam is soaring over Manhattan, Iron Man doing loops around him, and he grins into the wind.

 

Sam’s gotten a taste for being an Avenger now, and he _likes_ it.


	7. Skye

She knocks briefly on Coulson’s door, wondering if she’s going to run into Natasha Romanoff again. She had liked Clint quite a bit, but Romanoff is an enigma, and she hasn’t spent much time with anyone other than Coulson and May.

 

“Come in,” Coulson calls, and sure enough, Romanoff is sitting across from him. “Have a seat, Skye. Natasha and I were just finishing up.”

 

Romanoff rises. “I’ll check in and let you know how things go.”

 

“Will you be using Stark Tower as home base?” Coulson asks.

 

She shrugs. “It is secure, unlike any of my other safe houses, so yes, for the time being.”

 

“Good luck,” Coulson says.

 

Romanoff smiles. “Thank you.”

 

Skye catches the bemused expression on Coulson’s face, and as soon as the door is closed, she asks, “What’s up?”

 

“Usually, she would say she doesn’t need luck,” Coulson admits.

 

Skye grimaces. “I think we could all use a little luck these days.”

 

He lets out a breath. “I’m afraid you’re probably right about that. What did you need to talk to me about?”

 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” Skye begins.

 

Coulson leans back in his chair. “I think I’d prefer to hear the bad news first.”

 

“I tracked some of the funds that Hydra has been using, and while it’s a little tricky, I can pilfer a few accounts without getting caught,” she says confidently. “Probably enough to keep at least one more team going.”

 

He frowns. “That doesn’t sound like bad news.”

 

“It’s not, because the good news doesn’t make any sense without the bad news,” Skye replies. “The bad news is that some of that money is coming from the US military.”

 

Phil sits up straight. “How much?”

 

“Enough so that they’re clearly paying for _something_ ,” Skye replies. “I thought it looked a little hinky, so I’m telling you.”

 

His eyebrows go up. “Hinky?”

 

“We’ve been watching a lot of X-Files with Fitz,” she says unapologetically. “He likes it.”

 

Coulson shakes his head. “Okay, can you find out who in the military is making these payments, or at least narrow it down to a particular branch?”

 

“I can try,” she says, although privately she thinks it a dubious prospect. “Maybe a department, but then I’d have to figure out who the department head is.”

 

“Do that, and pull everything together that you can,” Coulson orders. “Would you be up for a field trip?”

 

She perks up. “Where are we going?”

 

“New York, Stark Tower,” Coulson replies. “I think it might be time to reintroduce SHIELD to the Avengers.”

 

Her eyes widen. “Are you planning on asking Stark for money?”

 

“No,” he says, his expression rueful. “I’m planning on presenting this information to Stark as a peace offering so that we don’t come empty-handed when I suggest we be allies.”

 

Skye tries not to let on to how much she’s looking forward to meeting the rest of the Avengers, especially Tony Stark. Captain America would be cool, too, but Stark is like the granddaddy of them all.

 

Even if she would never use that term to his face.

 

“When do we leave?”

 

“In a few days,” Coulson replies. “There’s something else, though.”

 

Skye sits back in her chair, hearing the seriousness in his voice. “Okay.”

 

“Do you remember what Garrett drew on the wall?”

 

She frowns, trying to remember if she’d been around at the time, or if she’d been paying any attention. “You mean, on the Bus?”

 

“That’s right,” Coulson says evenly. “I’ve been—compelled to make the same drawing. I’m planning to ask Stark and Banner for their help, and I’ll be turning over the information we have on the compound used to heal both of us.”

 

Skye shifts uncomfortably. “I haven’t experienced any side effects. Do you think—”

 

“I don’t know what to think,” he admits. “So far, I haven’t had any other problems, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

 

“Or that I won’t,” Skye suggests.

 

He gives her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

 

Skye shakes her head. “You saved my life. I’ll deal with the consequences.”

 

She’s honestly not sure how to feel about it, though. If she’s not human, then what is she? It’s something that she hadn’t given much thought to before now, mostly because there had been nothing about her that would indicate she’s anything other than human.

 

But also because it had been enough to be a part of SHIELD.

 

Skye had turned in her badge when Coulson asked for it, even though it had pained her. She had first hand experience with how deeply Hydra had infiltrated SHIELD, and she understands why they’d had to burn it down and start fresh.

 

It’s funny, but a year ago, Skye would have happily revealed all of SHIELD’s secrets. She would have argued for complete transparency, but now she’s not so sure.

 

Now, she has to wonder what might happen if the wrong people figure out that she’s not human, when her very existence is apparently supposed to be a secret.

 

Skye still has more work to do, but she’s overdue for a training session with May, Triplett, and Jemma.

 

Jemma is still really tentative during hand-to-hand, and usually Skye partners with her, but since she’s late, Jemma is working with Trip.

 

“Come on,” he says. “You can’t hurt me.”

 

Skye smiles as Jemma frowns. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say, because Jemma actually renews her attack and starts putting a little more force behind her punches and kicks.

 

“Good,” May says. “Much better. Skye, you’re late.”

 

“I was with the director,” Skye replies.

 

May gives her a look. “That excuse doesn’t work when it comes to hand-to-hand.”

 

Skye hesitates. “We were talking about that thing. With the wall.”

 

May’s expression actually softens. “You okay?”

 

Skye shrugs. “I’ll be fine.”

 

She doesn’t really want to talk about it, not before she’s had a chance to wrap her head around everything.

 

“I’ll work with you today,” May says.

 

Skye bites back a groan, because that means more bruises, but she knows that’s what she gets for being late.

 

When they’re done, Skye’s dripping sweat, and her limbs feel like limp noodles, but she also feels a sense of accomplishment. She doesn’t need May to tell her that she’s made improvements over the last month or two.

 

Still, it feels pretty damn good to hear May say, “You did well today, Skye. Simmons, you’re improving.”

 

Jemma droops with exhaustion. “Oh, good.”

 

Skye walks with Jemma back towards their quarters, which are right next door to each other. “Did Coulson mention a visit to Stark Tower?” Jemma asks quietly.

 

“Did he talk to you about it, too?” Skye asks.

 

Jemma nods. “He wants Fitz to go.”

 

“How does Fitz feel about that?”

 

“He’s freaking out,” Jemma says quietly. “But he’s determined to make a good impression. Do you know when we’re going?”

 

“A few days, according to the boss,” Skye replies.

 

Jemma nods determinedly. “We’ll be ready.” She gives Skye a look that she can’t quite read. “How are you?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Jemma hesitates. “I’m going to get cleaned up, but do you want to raid the kitchen?”

 

Skye realizes that she’s starving. “Definitely.”

 

Trip is putting together a couple of sandwiches when Skye enters the kitchen, her damp hair pulled back in a braid, and wearing SHIELD-issue sweats. “Plenty more where this came from,” he says when Skye comments on how good they look. “I can leave everything out for you.”

 

“What are you up to?” Skye asks.

 

“Another flight lesson from May,” Trip replies. “Makes sense for more than one of us to be able to fly the Bus. See you later?”

 

“Maybe so,” she agrees. Skye likes Trip a lot, and he’s certainly proven himself, but she’s not quite ready to completely let down her guard with him.

 

Not after Ward. Skye doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to let down her guard again, even with the people she knows—with the possible exception of Coulson and the remaining members of her original team.

 

Jemma enters just as he’s leaving, and she offers an almost shy smile before beginning to build her own sandwich, shoulder-to-shoulder with Skye. “I told Fitz I’d bring him something after we were done eating,” she says. “One of my famous sandwiches. I hope we have everything I need.”

 

“I think Koenig ordered everything on the list,” Skye replies. “How is he really holding up?”

 

Jemma shakes her head. “I don’t know. He said—he said he was in love with me before he saved my life, and now he won’t talk about it.”

 

“Maybe he’s waiting until he recovers a little more,” Skye offers. “Honestly, that’s what I would probably do.”

 

Jemma makes a frustrated sound. “I _know_ that’s what he’s doing, but—” She sighs. “What makes it worse is that I don’t really feel that way about him, but after what he did…”

 

Skye grimaces. That’s a hard one, and she can understand why Jemma would be struggling with her own emotions. When a guy nearly kills himself to make sure you survive, it feels pretty crappy to not be able to return the same feelings.

 

“But what about you?” Jemma asks, changing the subject. “How are you feeling?”

 

Skye shrugs. “I’m fine.”

 

Jemma doesn’t appear convinced. “You had just received your badge when things went pear-shaped,” she points out. “And you were apparently injected with some kind of alien substance—”

 

“Which has had no effect on me, other than saving my life,” Skye inserts.

 

“Unlike everyone else who’s been exposed,” Jemma continues. “If it were me, I might be worried.”

 

Skye nearly responds with “good thing I’m not you then,” but that’s not fair. Jemma is her friend, and there’s really no one else Skye can talk to about this. Coulson feels too guilty for exposing Skye in the first place, Skye refuses to burden Fitz—and it’s not his area of expertise—and May…

 

Well, May doesn’t exactly invite confidences.

 

“I don’t know what I feel,” Skye finally admits. “I keep trying to distract myself with projects and other things, because I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

 

“What’s the other shoe?” Jemma asks, taking a bite of her sandwich.

 

“Horns, a tail, turning bright blue and glowing?” Skye suggests, trying to joke about it.

 

Jemma doesn’t laugh. “Not being _you_ anymore?”

 

“Yeah, that,” Skye says. “SHIELD protected me for years, and now it’s all out in the open, and SHIELD doesn’t really exist anymore. I’m apparently not human, or at least not your typical human, and—I don’t know where I belong.”

 

Jemma reaches out and grabs her hand. “You belong here with us,” she says fiercely. “Even if you grow horns _and_ a tail _and_ start glowing blue.”

 

“Even if I’m an alien?” Skye asks.

 

She smiles. “Maybe especially then, because we’re what’s left of SHIELD, and we take care of our own.”

 

Skye squeezes Jemma’s hand. “Yeah, we do.”

 

And maybe that’s enough for right now.


	8. James Buchanan Barnes/The Winter Soldier

He doesn’t run after Captain America—after _Steve_ leaves. He thinks about it, thinks about disappearing again, or trying to. He could make his way back to Russia, perhaps revisit some of the other places that are clear in his fractured memory.

 

But he stays in New York City to instead revisit the places he _doesn’t_ remember, the places that are mentioned in the biography that details Steve’s earliest days.

 

The truth is that he doesn’t want to _be_ the Winter Soldier, but he doesn’t know how he can go back to being Bucky.

 

He doesn’t know who Bucky Barnes _is_.

 

The building they’d lived in before the war began has since been torn down and replaced, but there’s still a part of him that recognizes that area. He can still remember their promise to stick together until the end of the line.

 

He senses someone coming up behind him, but he already knows who it is. “Where’s your shadow?”

 

“Sam has a few things to do today,” Steve replies. “I thought I’d stop by and see how you were.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Steve puts his hands in his pockets and doesn’t look at him. “You know, I once tried to remember all the alleys I got beat up in where you came to my rescue, and I couldn’t. I kept missing a few, and then I’d remember later.”

 

He has a flash—small, sickly Steve going up against a bully twice his side, and going down swinging more often than not. Bucky, wading in, putting Steve back on his feet, dusting him off and handing him a handkerchief to stem his bleeding nose or lip.

 

“You got beat up a lot.”

 

He catches Steve’s smile out of the corner of his eye. “You saved my ass a lot,” Steve counters.

 

“Why Bucky?” he blurts out. “Who called me that?”

 

Steve shrugs. “Everybody called you that, ever since I can remember. You used to say that you weren’t a James or a Jimmy, and your middle name had to be good for something.”

 

“I said that?” he asks.

 

“Once, when I asked,” Steve replies. “Why does it matter?”

 

He shakes his head. “I don’t know who that guy is anymore. I have these pieces of memory, but—they don’t make sense. They don’t make a whole picture.”

 

That’s more than he’s said to anybody in weeks, but he feels a need to warn Steve that he’s not going to get his friend back. He’s never going to have Bucky back again.

 

“That’s okay,” Steve says softly. “It doesn’t have to. Your job is to figure out who you are now, and not try to be someone you aren’t.”

 

He doesn’t expect that response, and he turns to stare at Steve for the first time, seeing the square jaw and the handsome profile. Steve may be a hero, but James Buchanan Barnes had become a monster, and he doesn’t know how Steve could possibly understand. “Where’d you get that from?”

 

“A friend told me that,” Steve replies. “You should meet him sometime.”

 

He snorts. He has no intention of meeting Steve’s friends.

 

“Look,” Steve begins, sounding awkward. “If you need anything, if something happens with your arm and you need it fixed, even if you just want a hot shower and a place to sleep, you can come by Stark Tower. I’m going to be staying there now, but even if I’m not there, you can stay.”

 

He opens his mouth to reject the offer out of hand, but Steve interrupts him. “Just keep it in mind, okay? That’s all I ask.”

 

He has no idea what gives Steve the right to make demands from him, but then remembers the blood on his hands. He’s been wanting to rebuild his own life, wanting to find out who he is if he’s not someone’s mindless tool.

 

Steve might be able to give him the answers he needs, when he’s ready to hear them.

 

“Okay,” he hears himself say.

 

Steve’s grin is genuine, and his eyes light up, and a thousand memories flood his mind of Steve with that same grin—that’s all he remembers, and nothing has a context, but the feeling of warmth in his chest is the same now as it had been all those times before.

 

And he suddenly feels like _Bucky_ again, even if it is just for one, fleeting moment.


	9. Tony Stark

Pepper gives him a disapproving look when Tony grabs a slice of pizza from the box, folds it in half, and heads back to the elevators and the lab. “I didn’t get pizza just for you to disappear again,” she objects. “A half hour won’t kill you, Tony.”

 

“Bruce is still working,” Tony objects, “and we’re working on the thing together, so it’s not fair if I take a break and leave him to it.”

 

The elevator doors open with a chime to reveal Bruce standing there. He’s obviously showered and changed, because he’s wearing a t-shirt and rumpled khakis. “Actually, we’re stopping for the night,” he announces. “Because we’re both tired, and you need a break.”

 

“I need—”

 

“To sit down and eat your pizza,” Bruce replies, putting a hand in the center of Tony’s chest and nudging him backwards. “Which is what I’m going to do. Hi, Pepper. Thanks for the invite.”

 

Tony turns to look at her. “You planned this.”

 

She looks smug. “Bruce said you’d been working too hard again.”

 

“There is no such thing,” Tony objects. “The fate of the world may literally rest on what we do, or don’t do, and—”

 

“And you won’t be any use if you’re strung out on no sleep and too much coffee,” Bruce interrupts. “And you know how cranky I get when I don’t eat regularly.”

 

Tony takes a bite of his slice and chews, planning his next line of attack. “I think you play that up.”

 

“It’s possible,” Bruce admits. “But is that a risk you really want to take?”

 

Pepper has made herself comfortable, too, in yoga pants and a t-shirt, and she grabs a slice of pizza from the box, folding herself up on the couch. “He does have a point.”

 

Tony shakes his head, but he knows when he’s beat. He _might_ be able to convince Bruce to go for a few more hours after they eat, but he knows Bruce (and Pepper) well enough by now to realize that if he leaves for the labs now, they won’t follow him. Instead, they’ll probably have a nice, quiet conversation on something other than work, and Tony will then feel left out and somewhat betrayed.

 

They’re sneaky, is what he’s saying, but since he likes them, he’ll probably wind up keeping them around anyway.

 

When he sits down next to Pepper with his slice, she leans into him, and Tony puts his free hand around her shoulders. Bruce kicks off his shoes and reaches for a slice as well, looking utterly comfortable and completely at home.

 

This kind of domesticity has been months—if not years—in the making, and Tony relaxes a little. “We did make good progress today.”

 

“Mapping out the locations of Hydra’s bases might be taking longer than we anticipated, but we’re starting to unravel the ins and outs of the organization,” Bruce acknowledges. “In a few months—”

 

Pepper clears her throat loudly. “The point of eating pizza together is to have a _break_ ,” she says pointedly.

 

Bruce looks abashed. “Sorry, Pepper.”

 

“Then what _do_ you want to talk about, love of my life?” Tony asks, knowing there’s an edge of sarcasm in his voice.

 

She thwaps him on the chest. “How about where we’re going to locate the next building?”

 

“I thought we’d decided on Tokyo,” Tony replies. “For our new communications division?”

 

Pepper finishes up one slice and selects another. “That was last month. I’m talking about the new water reclamation plant fueled entirely by arc reactor technology.”

 

Bruce leans forward. “My vote is for a city near a coast, where clean water is an issue.”

 

“We have to prove it works first,” Tony objects. “Sure, it looks good on paper, but if anything goes wrong, we’ll be accused of exporting our experiments, and putting other people at risk.”

 

“Tony’s right,” Pepper agrees. “I would actually suggest California. The state is still suffering a serious drought, and there are a lot of people being affected, including farmers and farmworkers.”

 

Bruce chews thoughtfully. “Good point.”

 

“We’ll get to the other places in the world eventually, Bruce,” Tony promises. “But I think we should start a little smaller. We’ve already expanded research into better Intellicrops and medicine by tenfold.”

 

Bruce huffs a laugh. “I know that. I just—”

 

“Want to move a little faster?” Pepper asks sympathetically. “We didn’t change the direction of Stark Industries overnight, and we’re not going to save the world overnight either.”

 

Bruce shrugs his acquiescence and licks sauce off his finger. “Fair enough.”

 

“Sir, you have a phone call from Director Coulson,” Jarvis announces.

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Well, well, he finally got around to calling me. It’s about damn time. Put him through, J.”

 

“On speaker, sir?” Jarvis asks.

 

Tony shrugs. “I have no secrets in this room.”

 

“Mr. Stark, how are you?” Coulson’s voice fills the room.

 

Tony smirks. “I’m alive, and apparently, so are you. Thanks for being so prompt in letting me know.”

 

Coulson’s sigh is audible. “I apologize for my tardiness. I was persuaded that the silence was necessary.”

 

“By Fury, no doubt,” Tony replies. “Tell me, how is our dear, departed director? Somewhere in Eastern Europe, right?”

 

“I wouldn’t know,” Coulson says stiffly, but at least he doesn’t try to convince Tony that Fury is really dead. “I’d like to meet with you and your team.”

 

Tony glances at Bruce, who shrugs. “I think that can be arranged, but I can’t promise that anybody else will be here.”

 

“I’m bringing my team, as well as some information that you might be interested in,” Coulson says. “Call it a peace offering.”

 

Tony lets the silence hang, wondering if Coulson is squirming on the other end. Probably not, but it’s fun to imagine. “Bring your team,” Tony replies. “Say, Friday? We’ll talk.”

 

“I’ll see you then,” Coulson promises. There’s a brief pause, and he adds, “Look, one of my people was badly hurt during the Hydra debacle. He’ll be coming with me, but—”

 

“Maybe we can help aid his recovery,” Bruce says, speaking up for the first time. “Or assist him in other ways.”

 

“Dr. Banner?” Coulson asks, surprise in his voice.

 

Bruce clears his throat. “Yeah, it’s me. We’ve already started work on tools for the Avengers to use. Maybe we can help your guy.”

 

There’s a long silence, and Coulson’s voice is just a little hoarse when he says, “I’d appreciate that.”

 

“So, Friday, bring your people,” Tony says. “I’ll let the others know, and they’ll be here if they can.”

 

“I appreciate it, Mr. Stark,” Coulson says formally. “Dr. Banner, I hope to see you then as well.”

 

“Oh, I’m usually around,” Bruce replies with a smirk that Coulson can’t see.

 

Tony knows full well that Bruce has been running interference for him when he feels that it’s necessary, and it’s possible that Coulson knows that too, especially if he’s talked to Natasha.

 

“So I’ve heard,” Coulson replies, sounding amused. “See you on Friday.”

 

“Do you really think this is smart?” Pepper asks once the call has been ended.

 

Tony shrugs. “Coulson and his people are what’s left of SHIELD. I might not want to work for them again, and I have no intention of taking orders from him, but call me crazy, I actually trust him.”

 

“He’s not Hydra, and he’s a good man,” Pepper says. “There has to be a reason that Fury put him in charge of SHIELD.”

 

Bruce nods. “From what you’ve said, he’s incorruptible, if such a person exists.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Well, when you think of all the people on Hydra’s hit list…”

 

“He wasn’t,” Bruce points out.

 

“He was also dead,” Tony replies. “Which might have been one reason for Fury to keep his resurrection a secret.”

 

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt again, but it appears you have another visitor,” Jarvis says.

 

Tony sighs. “Who is it this time?”

 

“I believe you know him as the Winter Soldier,” Jarvis replies.

 

“Send him up,” Tony says immediately. “Is Rogers in the building?”

 

“He is,” Jarvis replies. “Shall I notify him of Sergeant Barnes’ presence?”

 

Bruce shakes his head silently.

 

“Not yet,” Tony says. “Let’s see what Barnes wants first.”

 

Barnes limps into the Penthouse a few moments later, looking half-starved and wary as a feral cat, one arm hanging useless at his side. He stops only a couple of steps into the room, looking like he might bolt at any moment.

 

Bruce rises slowly, keeping his hands in front of him, showing that he’s unarmed. He projects an air of harmlessness that Tony’s pretty sure no one else could manage. He’s also the one least likely to be permanently harmed if Barnes strikes out right now. “Hi, I’m Bruce. You must be Sergeant Barnes.”

 

Barnes’ eyes are on the floor. “I—I guess.”

 

“You want some pizza?” Bruce asks quietly. “Are you hungry? Or hurt?”

 

“I got into some trouble,” Barnes admits in a low voice. “My arm isn’t working.”

 

“We can take a look at it,” Bruce says. “Maybe you should sit down for right now? We have extra pizza.”

 

Bruce coaxes him into the room and onto the couch by slow inches. “This is Tony Stark and Pepper Potts,” Bruce says once he’s convinced Barnes to have a seat, although he perches on the edge of the couch as though he’s ready to leap up at any moment. “I think Steve’s around here somewhere if you want to see him.”

 

Barnes looks a little panicked.

 

“Or not,” Bruce says quickly. “You can stay right here, and we won’t tell him anything if that’s what you’d rather have happen.”

 

Tony is incredibly impressed at how Bruce approaches him, and gets him to eat not one, not two, but three slices of pizza.

 

It’s a good thing that Pepper had ordered two of them.

 

“So, how about you let me take a look at you and make sure you’re not injured, and Tony can take a look at your arm?” Bruce suggests. “We’ll get you fixed right up.”

 

Barnes looks at Tony straight on for the first time. “I knew Howard Stark.”

 

Tony’s grateful that Hydra hadn’t used Barnes to kill his parents; it’s easier to look at him as a victim in all of this, rather than the enemy. “I know,” Tony says. “And I’m happy to give you a hand for my old man’s sake.”

 

Barnes nods at that, and maybe he understands the concept of _quid pro quo_ the way he wouldn’t understand someone helping him out of the goodness of his heart. A guy like Barnes probably doesn’t believe in goodness anymore.

 

They get him into the lab, and get his jacket and layered shirts off. Bruce makes a distressed sound over the bruises littering his ribs, and Tony hisses when he sees the damage to Barnes’ mechanical arm.

 

“This looks like a bullet hole,” Tony says.

 

Barnes is quiet for a moment, and he says, “There was an armed robbery at a convenience store I was in. I didn’t want them to kill the clerk.”

 

Tony glances at Bruce, who raises an eyebrow. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is going to take more than just a few minutes to fix.”

 

“How long?” Barnes asks.

 

“Maybe a day, maybe a little more,” Tony replies. “Since I’ve never worked with a prosthetic like this before, it’s going to take a little time.”

 

Barnes looks about ready to bolt, and Bruce says, “Hey, we won’t keep you here if you don’t want to stay, but can we call someone for you? Steve, maybe?”

 

Barnes hesitates, then says slowly, “Yeah, I guess.”

 

“I’ll give him a call,” Bruce says gently.

 

“You’re not lying, are you?” Barnes asks suspiciously.

 

Tony looks him in the eye. “No. Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that.”

 

Barnes gives him a long look. “Okay.”

 

It’s not trust, but it’s a start.

 

Steve shows up just a few minutes after Bruce calls him, and given how out of breath he is, he hadn’t waited for the elevator. “Hi,” he says, trying for casual and missing it by a mile.

 

Barnes looks away. “Hey.”

 

Steve is clearly trying to restrain himself, but he’s nearly vibrating from tension. “Bruce told me what happened,” he says. “You—you did good, Buck.”

 

Barnes glances up, startled.

 

“You did,” Steve repeats. “Um, if you’re staying, I have some extra space.”

 

Barnes hesitates. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

 

“We’ll start working on it first thing tomorrow,” Tony promises. “Right now, if you’re okay with it, we’ll do a few scans, see what’s what, and we’ll be able to dig in immediately in the morning.”

 

Barnes nods. “Okay.”

 

“Won’t hurt a bit,” Tony promises.

 

They get the scans done, and then Steve actually manages to coax Barnes out of the lab, and probably head back to his floor.

 

“Well, that was unexpected,” Tony remarks.

 

Bruce shrugs. “Not really. A mechanical arm like that is going to need repairs at some point, and where else is he going to go? Right now, Barnes has no choice but to trust us.”

 

“Is that a good thing or bad thing?” Tony asks.

 

Bruce thinks for a moment. “Desperate times might call for desperate measures, but it gives us a chance to win his trust, maybe convince him to come on board.”

 

“That guy?” Tony asks. “An Avenger?”

 

“Someone might have said the same thing about me, and probably did,” Bruce says, a note of amusement in his voice. “Or about you.”

 

“They definitely said it about me,” Tony agrees. “Apparently, I’m a narcissist who doesn’t play well with others.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I’d dispute that.”

 

“You might be the only one,” Tony says as Jarvis converts his scans into holographic models. “So, what do you say? Another late night in the lab?”

 

Bruce leans in close, fumbling for his glasses. “Looks like some of the damage is to the interface between the arm and his body. Make another pot of coffee, will you?”

 

Tony smiles. This is why he has his Science Bro. “I’ll let Pepper know not to expect us back up tonight.”

 

“Oh, I think I figured that out already,” Pepper says from the doorway. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee. Should I order some clothing for Sergeant Barnes?”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Tony objects.

 

“I know I don’t,” Pepper replies. “And I probably won’t. I’ll have someone else do it.”

 

“Not a bad idea,” Bruce says absently. “Thanks, Pep.”

 

Pepper shakes her head and gives Tony a long, heated kiss. “So you don’t forget about me,” she says, sounding amused. Then she presses a kiss to Bruce’s cheek. “And don’t you forget that lack of sleep makes you cranky.”

 

Bruce gives her a deeply amused look. “I’ll try not to forget.”

 

They work until the wee hours of the morning, and then they catch a nap on the couch, Bruce’s legs tucked behind Tony’s body.

 

Tony sleeps deeply, as he always does when he’s on the couch in the lab with Bruce. He sleeps well enough in his own bed if Pepper’s there, but there’s something about being in the lab that’s comforting.

 

His nightmares don’t follow him down there, maybe because the Hulk is usually around, and his subconscious knows it.

 

Bruce kicks him awake around eight. “Shower, breakfast, coffee,” he orders. “We have work to do.”

 

“You are a cruel, cruel taskmaster,” Tony complains, stretching out his feet and poking Bruce in the ribs.

 

“I am a man who is fully aware that Barnes is going to be in here shortly, and if we don’t have something for him, he’s going to think we’re delaying on purpose,” Bruce replies. “Also, I really want a shower, and breakfast, and coffee.”

 

“And your wish is my command,” Tony replies grandly. “Jarvis, if anybody asks, we’re up in the Penthouse getting ready for the day.”

 

Bruce follows him out of the lab. “You know, there are plenty of places in the Tower. I have my own place even.”

 

“Technically, you have two places,” Tony replies. “It’s handier for me this way.”

 

Bruce rolls his eyes. “Right. And it’s all about you.”

 

“And now you’re getting it,” Tony teases.

 

“You’re lucky I like you so much,” Bruce complains.

 

Tony grins. “I’m very lucky.”

 

Bruce shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

 

Barnes and Steve are in the Penthouse when they arrive, and they both stand up immediately. “Do you have anything?” Steve asks.

 

“We have many things,” Tony replies. “And we are not putting you off, but seriously, we were up most of the night, and we both need to get cleaned up, and get some food and caffeine.” He doesn’t let on that it was Bruce’s suggestion, although Bruce smirks.

 

“Right,” Steve says. “Um, should I make something? I can manage pancakes.”

 

Bruce smiles. “Yes, that would be great.”

 

By the time Tony emerges from the bathroom, Steve has a pot of coffee going and Barnes is working his way through a stack of pancakes. Bruce isn’t too far behind, and he falls on his own stack of pancakes with a voracious appetite.

 

“Okay, so, the short story is that we know what’s wrong with your arm,” Tony says now that everyone is present. “And we can fix it.”

 

Steve frowns. “What’s the catch?”

 

“No catch,” Tony insists. “Although I can probably improve it, and it might not be a bad idea to give it a complete overhaul considering who built it, but that’s up to Barnes here.”

 

Barnes is quiet for a long moment, and then he glances over at Steve. “What do you think?”

 

Steve looks surprised, and then pleased. “You can trust Bruce and Tony,” he insists. “They’ll fix you up.”

 

Barnes nods. “Okay.”

 

“It might take a little time,” Tony warns him. “But you’re welcome to stay here while we get it figured out.”

 

Barnes squares his shoulders. “Thanks.”

 

“Good man,” Bruce says quietly. “We’ll take good care of you, Sergeant.”

 

Tony figures they can get Barnes’ arm working, and then replace it with something better once they get it built.

 

Besides, if they can keep Barnes around, that should give Bruce a little time to work on him, since Bruce seems to have an innate ability to soothe the savage beast. Probably with good reason.

 

Barnes focuses on his coffee, but he looks a lot better—well rested, and maybe a little less skittish. Tony doesn’t doubt that this is just one small step in the right direction, but at least it’s a step.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony’s not quite sure what to expect when Coulson arrives on Friday, but most of the Avengers had assembled at his call. Thor would have been there, but he’d been called off world. Clint had wrapped up his latest job and moved into his quarters in the Tower, as had Natasha. Sam had flown up from D.C., where he’s wrapping up his job and making sure his clients are well cared for. Even Barnes had apparently decided to stick around, although he’s made himself scarce for this meeting.

 

“You okay?” Bruce asks in an undertone.

 

Tony shrugs. “I’m fine. Not sure what Coulson wants out of me, though.”

 

Bruce smiles. “That’s why I’m here. If he asks too much of you, I’ll let him know.”

 

“I know I can count on you,” Tony replies quietly. “Thanks.”

 

Clint and Natasha are speaking softly in the kitchen, and Steve is sitting in a chair, staring down at his hands. Tony wonders if Barnes is doing any better, but figures now isn’t the time to ask.

 

The elevator chimes, and Tony gets to his feet. Coulson walks out, followed by four kids—at least, that’s what they look like to Tony.

 

“Director,” Tony says, a mocking tone in his voice.

 

“Mr. Stark,” Coulson replies. He glances around the room. “Looks like most of the team is here. Good to see you again, Captain Rogers.”

 

Steve nods. “Same here, Director Coulson.”

 

“This is my team,” Coulson says. “Most of them, anyway. This is Skye, my computer expert, Antoine Triplett, Specialist, Jemma Simmons, biochem, and Leo Fitz, engineering.”

 

Tony immediately understands why Coulson had said what he had. Fitz is leaning heavily on a cane, with Simmons supporting him on the other side. “Why don’t you all have a seat,” Tony suggests. “I’m sure we have a lot to talk about, and then I fully expect you to give me the opportunity to poach later on. We can always use good engineers. And biochem people, and I love a good hacker.”

 

Fitz seems to stand up a little straighter, and Bruce rises to give his seat to Fitz. Simmons gets him settled, and then she looks at Bruce, looking as though she’s about to burst.

 

“Can I get you another chair?” Bruce asks politely.

 

“No, I’m fine,” Simmons replies, and then bursts out with, “Dr. Banner, I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but your paper on the potential uses for gamma radiation was absolutely brilliant. I was wondering—if you wouldn’t mind me asking a few questions…”

 

The tips of Bruce’s ears are pink. “Uh, sure. If you want.”

 

There’s no way that Simmons doesn’t know about the Hulk, which means that her gushing over Bruce’s scientific papers means she cares more about Bruce’s mind than the Other Guy, and there aren’t many people like that in the world.

 

“We’ll have plenty of time to tour the labs later,” Tony says. “Simmons can pick Bruce’s brain, and I can attempt to poach Fitz.”

 

Skye smiles, and the tension in Coulson’s shoulders releases. “You’ll get your chance, Stark,” he says. Tony can tell that he’s trying to sound upset, but is missing it by a mile.

 

“Now, let’s see what you’ve got for me, and we can talk terms,” Tony says.

 

Coulson hands him a flash drive. “Here’s everything we have on Hydra, including known bases and affiliates, and the financial information we’ve been able to dig up.”

 

Skye pipes up. “We know that the US military is paying Hydra for something. We just don’t know what yet.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”

 

“Why would the US military be dealing with Hydra?” Steve objects.

 

“They might not know it’s Hydra,” Skye offers. “They were buying things from Quinn before.”

 

Tony nods. “Possible.”

 

“So, we’ve got the military to worry about, too,” Coulson acknowledges. “And maybe without them even knowing it.”

 

“We can keep an eye on them,” Barton says, speaking up for the first time. “With Stark’s resources, we can at least do that much.”

 

Coulson winces. “We can’t. We just don’t have the resources.”

 

Tony glances at Bruce, who nods, as does Steve. Barton and Romanoff both say, “Yes.”

 

“Then we’re agreed,” Tony says. “The Avengers will team up with Coulson and his people, and we’ll work together to take down Hydra and deal with any threats that might arise.”

 

Coulson clears his throat. “There’s one more thing.”

 

Tony raises his eyebrows. “And what would that be?”

 

“We have reason to believe that what saved—resurrected—me was alien in nature, and we’re not sure what the long term effects on me will be,” Coulson says stolidly.

 

Tony shrugs. “Then we’ll deal with those effects when they come up. Anything else I need to know before we shake on it?”

 

The man Coulson had identified as Agent Triplett clears his throat. “Sir?”

 

“Ah, I may have forgotten to mention that Agent Triplett’s grandfather was a Howling Commando.”

 

Steve rises quickly. “Are you Gabe’s grandson?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Triplett says, standing a little taller. “He was my mother’s father, and it’s an honor to meet you, Captain.”

 

“The honor is mine,” Steve says sincerely.

 

Tony figures he’d probably better break this up before he starts gagging. “Well, Steve, I’ll let you and the others take care of Director Coulson and Agent Triplett. The rest of you, I think we’re due in the labs. Fitz, I have something I want you to look at.”

 

Fitz frowns as he struggles to his feet with Simmons’ help. “Me, sir?”

 

“Yes, you,” Tony replies brusquely. “Coulson said you were an engineer. How do you feel about prosthetic limbs?”

 

“Generally positive,” Fitz replies, slurring his words a bit.

 

“Good, then you can help me out while Simmons picks Bruce’s brain and Skye here gets acquainted with Jarvis,” Tony replies.

 

Skye’s eyes get huge. “Wait, is that your AI? Are you going to let me peek under the hood?”

 

Tony laughs. “No. But you two can talk about plans to take over the world, or hacking Hydra, whatever you want.”

 

Coulson clears his throat. “Stark, thank you.”

 

Tony gives him a long look, and then makes a decision. He likes Coulson’s people, and Coulson had put a lot of cards on the table without asking for much in return. Maybe Romanoff had warned him, but Tony doesn’t care. His father had given his life to this cause, and Tony can do no less.

 

“Life is short, Director, and we’re on the same side,” Tony says quietly, holding out his hand. “It makes sense to be allies.”

 

Coulson nods, giving his hand a firm shake, his mouth tightening. “Thank you.”

 

“And hey,” Tony says. “If we can give you a hand with whatever resurrection issues you’re having, just let me know. I’m happy to help.”

 

Coulson smiles and rolls his eyes, but says, “I appreciate that.”

 

“Great, Pepper should be around shortly,” Tony says. “I think she wants to yell at you for not telling her you were alive. Good luck with that.”

 

Coulson grimaces, which just proves that he’s got a brain.

 

“Let’s go, Fitz,” Tony says. “I have a prosthetic arm to completely rebuild.”

 

Simmons and Bruce are already deep in conversation, and Triplett and Steve are talking, too. Tony offers a surreptitious arm to Fitz while Skye takes his other side. “Have you thought about a suit?” Tony asks.

 

Fitz glances at him suspiciously, as though he suspects that Tony is making fun of him. “Like yours?”

 

“Well, something like that,” Tony replies. “Nothing wrong with needing a little help getting around. We’ve been talking about expanding SI’s reach into prosthetics,” Tony says. “That’s all the suit really is, you know. I mean, I can’t let you have Jarvis, but we can talk.”

 

Fitz is staring at him with something like hero worship, and Tony says, “Not that it’s going to come free. I get to use any ideas you come up with for artificial limbs and so forth.”

 

“Um, certainly,” Fitz manages. “But only if you promise to use my ideas for those who need it most.”

 

Tony smiles. “Now you’re talking like an Avenger. You have my word.”

 

“I’m going to request that it be in writing,” Skye says.

 

Tony points at her. “You’ve got it, but only if you swear you’re not going to try to hack Jarvis.”

 

He doesn’t think she can, but he knows she’s probably going to try. “I promise,” Skye replies, sounding pained.

 

Fitz’s grin is lopsided, but real. “He has your number, Skye.”

 

“Stop telling all my secrets,” Skye scolds.

 

“We’re building trust,” Fitz replies.

 

With Skye working with Jarvis in a corner of Tony’s lab, and Fitz making suggestions on Barnes’ prosthetic arm, Tony feels like he has a handle on things. Fitz might have a damaged body, but his mind is first rate, and Tony resists the urge to tempt him away from Coulson with a suit that would allow him to walk unaided.

 

Friends don’t poach team members, but that doesn’t mean Tony can’t plant a seed. “Well, when you get tired of working for Coulson, come talk to me. I’ll give you your own lab.”

 

Fitz flushes. “I appreciate that, but I’m happy where I am.”

 

“When you’re not, let me know.” Tony notices that Skye is giving him a look that says she thinks he’s just hung the moon, or maybe he’s just made her friend’s day. It doesn’t matter, because the kid is smart, and he got fucked over by Hydra. Tony’s going to lend a hand.

 

He thinks that just maybe, his dad would be proud of him, and what he’s building. Tony can’t rebuild SHIELD, but he can make sure the Avengers remain a force for good in the world, and he can help SHIELD rebuild in small ways. He’s not going to bankroll it, but he can at least talk to some people, maybe open up some checkbooks.

 

Tony can build a new world, and he can help steer SHIELD in a direction free from Hydra’s control.

 

He can make a difference.

 

Fitz leans closer to the hologram. “You _could_ improve the interface here,” he says, pointing out an area that Tony already knows is problematic, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

Instead, he asks Fitz what he would do, and Fitz lights up and starts talking. Tony can’t catch all the words, since they’re indistinct, but he knows Jarvis is recording, so he can play it back later, and when he looks up again, Bruce is standing there with an approving smile, and Simmons looks relieved and thrilled in equal measure.

 

This is how they’re going to build a better world, Tony thinks. One person at a time, one relationship at a time—and one revolutionary idea at a time.

 

Tony’s made a good start at it, and now he aims to finish it.


	10. Epilogue

“How is it going?” Fury asks, the connection crackling.

 

May has no idea where he is, or where he’s calling from, but he’s checking in, as usual. It’s one of the reasons she hadn’t wanted to go to the Tower with the others. “I think it’s going well,” she admits. “Coulson wants me to join them for a late dinner.”

 

“You should go,” Fury replies. “And Fitz? That boy had a lot of potential.”

 

“Coulson seemed to think that Stark will outfit him with a prosthesis that might help,” May admits. She has to admit that she hadn’t expected Stark’s kindness.

 

Fury nods, apparently satisfied. “It’s probably better for the Avengers and SHIELD to appear independent for now. Stark can use his reputation to the Avengers’ advantage, and SHIELD can use his resources.”

 

“I’m pretty sure that Stark wouldn’t appreciate the idea of being used,” May replies.

 

“Everybody gets used, Agent May,” Fury replies. “Stark knows that better than anybody. My point is that there are times we use each other.”

 

May thinks of Ward, and winces internally, although she buries the emotion deep. “I understand that, sir.”

 

“I know you do,” he replies. “I’ll call you again in another week. Go have dinner with the rest of your team, and get to know the Avengers.”

 

May stays in the pilot’s seat for a long time after Fury hangs up, even though she has somewhere to be. She’d given everything to SHIELD, and she’s not sure what she has to show for it.

 

Then again, she’d been raised on duty to her country, and this is the only place she can imagine being. She has her team to look out for, and that means dealing with the Avengers.

 

That means keeping an eye out and keeping Fury apprised of what’s going on, even though it feels like a betrayal.

 

She takes a deep breath and says aloud, “Okay.”

 

Whatever comes, whatever has happened, however far SHIELD has fallen, May thinks, she has her duty. That has to be enough. And so she’ll keep an eye on things, and report to Fury, and hope for the best.

 

She just wishes she were a little more optimistic.


End file.
